


Houses Together

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And of course I had to add things like classroom drama and Dean trying out for a play because, And there may be some sex later on (if I post the entire thing), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean and Cas experience college life, F/F, F/M, I changed the timeline because I wanted Dean to be turning 21 in January 2014, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Supernatural series spoilers, Supernatural universe alterations, There are dark moments in this, There are some pretty in-depth makeout scenes that I've written into this, This is angsty fluff...can that be a thing? If not oh well that's what I'm calling it, because I started writing this story in 2013, implications of abuse, let's face it, so he was born in 1993 and Sammy was born in 1997, that's hilarious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 84,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is living in his first apartment as a junior in college. The townhouse he lives in has an interesting design--his window has a small roof beneath it that practically touches the outside sill of the window for an apartment on the other side. The tenant of that apartment is called Castiel: a transfer student who climbs through Dean's window and into his heart and soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue was written in a tumblr post beneath a picture of two townhouses with almost conjoining roofs. I cannot for the life of me remember who wrote it, so I can't give them the credit they deserve, but I DID NOT write this first bit. If you know who DID write this jumping-off point, please comment about the Prologue. Thank you.
> 
> This story is a social experiment; I hope there will be interest despite the fact that I'm not sure how well-written it is. I started writing it to console myself about the utter lack of hope and happiness in this damn TV show (Supernatural in case you were unaware) and the story progressed from there. I hope you will enjoy and find comfort in it, as I do.

I BET THAT IF TWO KIDS LIVED IN THOSE TWO HOUSES THAT THEY WOULD COME OUT ON THEIR ALMOST CONJOINING ROOFS OUTSIDE THEIR BEDROOM WINDOWS AND TALK AND BE BEST FRIENDS AND FALL IN LOVE.  
~~~

They stared out the window at each other, confused. The man across the way was the first to give him a small smile. He opened the window and belted across,

”Hi there!” The other man opened his window and grinned.

“New here?”

“Yes, I figured I should move somewhere close to my college campus.”

“You go there too?”

“Mmhm, I hear it’s really nice there. More to offer in education.”

“It is, I think you’ll like it here.”

“So…um, what’s your name?”

“Name’s Dean.”

“I’m Castiel.”


	2. Chapter 1

***

The two of them reach out and shake hands with one another. Before either can say another word, Dean’s phone rings and a Kansas song belts out: ‘…Masquerading as a man with a reason / my charade is the event of the season…’ He picks it up. “Hey Sam, yeah, I’m moved in little brother.” Laughs. “Yes I stocked up on pie. I’ll find someone to eat it with me, don’t worry.” He gets serious. “Yeah, I miss you too. Just concentrate on school, all right? And don’t let Dad bug you. I’ll talk to you later. Love you bro. Bye.” He turns back to Castiel, who is still hanging out of the window, trying to appear like he wasn’t eavesdropping. But there was a mention of pie…

“Hey, uh, is that offer for sharing pie open now? I would like to get to know people and immerse myself in college culture, so if it’s convenient…” He lets the comment hang there, his face appearing closed and disinterested, but already this man has marked his heart. Dean blinks and nods.

“Sure. Come on over. I’d tell you to buzz yourself in, but…” he gestures to their windows, “I think you’ve already got an entrance that works.” Smiling slightly, Dean gets off his window’s ledge and nods for Castiel to climb in. He does so hesitantly, unused to interactions like these. Standing in Dean’s apartment, he notices lots of rock music and an enormous pile of movies next to the DVD player. He immediately checks out the titles and is on the verge of asking if they can watch a movie together, but that is probably too forward…sigh. How DOES one make friends? Castiel wonders, just as Dean appears beside him with a plate of pecan pie. “Here you go, Castiel,” He says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and then he plops down in a beanbag chair. “Well, are you gonna sit down or just stand there all day?” Castiel unfreezes and sits down carefully next to a pile of clothes intermixed with several cardboard boxes. “I’m still not totally moved in yet,” Dean says with his mouth full of pie as he notices the other man glance at the boxes. “Sam, my little brother, offered to drive down and help me, but I told him I’d be fine.” He laughs almost grimly before saying, “It’s weird for me to be on my own. I was always taking care of him. It’s prob’ly weird for Sammy too—that’s why he won’t stop calling me. But you gotta cut the umbilical cord sometime, eh Castiel?” he playfully slaps Castiel’s knee, and the other man jumps and glares. Dean chuckles, those bright, almost glowing bottle-green eyes fixed on Castiel’s face. “Castiel,” Dean mutters. “Kind of a different name. Does everyone call you that?” Castiel is confused; his hands fidget on the edges of the plate. His chin rises and his voice gets cold.

“Is there something wrong with the name my parents chose for me? Is it unsatisfactory to you?” Dean widens his eyes and smirks at the frostiness of the other man’s voice. Castiel is trying not to allow himself to be impressed. Most people that confront his cool outward demeanor are instantly put off. Dean, however, is different.

“Nah, man, I’m not gonna make you change your name! I mean nicknames, you know, like a shortened version. How about…Cas?” Castiel blinks and tilts his head confusedly before his face shifts into a smile so small that, if one wasn’t paying close attention, they might miss it. He really likes the fullness of Dean’s voice, sort of gruff, but not too growly. Plus the fact that the other man is not at all wary of him and now has given Castiel a nickname…

“It’s perfect. I—I mean I like it. Yes, you may call me that,” To mask his discomfort, Castiel takes a large bite of pie. Dean grins.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Cas. So, d’you already know what you’ll be majoring in?”

“I am interested in the field of religious studies. I wrote several papers for my high school Senior Thesis on the merits of Christianity in its beginning and how it has evolved in modern times, and since I have already completed the freshman prerequisites at the institution where I was previously enrolled I am now ready to delve into more advanced religious courses.” Dean snorts.

“I gotta hand it to you, man; I wouldn’t touch that major with a 39.5 foot pole. Read the bible when I was younger, mostly the Old Testament—and God was such a dick. I mean, he spent the entire time pissing on people’s dreams or smiting them. It all started with Cain and Abel. Couldn’t the Lord just say ‘Thanks for the sacrifices’ and ditch Cain’s later? He didn’t have to praise Abel and tell Cain to fuck off. And then in Exodus, when he’s helping the Jews escape Egypt but then when they don’t instantly oust everybody who isn’t Jewish in Canaan, he’s all like ‘Well then I’m gonna curse you by having them hate you’. There’s just no reason for him to be such an asshole! I’m sorry,” he adds after a moment. “I just have strong feelings about this stuff. I guess the one thing I inherited from my dad is his skeptical mind.” Cas shakes his head in disbelief at the vehement tone of the words Dean has just said.

“It’s interesting to hear such strong objections, Dean, but perhaps you should exercise some restraint,” …And I should as well. I’ve only just met this man and should take care not to insult him, Cas thinks. There is something about this stocky guy striding around in his black t-shirt and fitted jeans kicking things and yelling that makes Castiel feel off-balance. He is out of his element. He feels both as light as a feather and as heavy as a lead balloon. Maybe it’s just the pie. “Thank you for allowing me to share your sustenance,” he says awkwardly, standing back up and handing his plate to Dean, “…but I must go ready myself for class.” Dean nods, taking the plate and their hands meet for a millisecond.

“No prob. Thanks for comin’ over. You can yell at me anytime out your window.” He heads to the kitchen and says, “I’ll see you later, Cas.” The other man turns and hops onto the windowsill and then across to his own roof before remembering to make a gesture of acknowledgement in response to Dean’s farewell. Castiel jerkily nods from just inside his window and swears he sees Dean burst out laughing.


	3. Chapter 2

***  
Every day, the two of them wave or nod to each other before leaving for classes, and when they return open their windows to talk. Cas leans out with his elbows on the sill, while Dean stands on his small roof and sometimes paces back and forth—especially when he’s frustrated.

“It’s this damn Latin, Cas. I can’t keep all the declensions and vocabulary in my head. I guess I’ve got a mental block because everyone says it’s a dead language.”

“That is not completely true, Dean. It is still spoken every Sunday in Roman Catholic churches and remains useful for finding the definitions of many English words. If you like, I could help you out a bit. I studied Latin in my youth.” Dean chuckles and shakes his head.

“You’re amazing, Cas. Of all the apartments for you to live, you had to pick the place next to mine. Knowing Latin? Liking pie? Being interested in my taste in music? I swear if this was a chick flick we’d be soulmates.” He clears his throat as if reconsidering what he’s just said, but quickly adds, “So, what d’you suggest I do for this Latin thing?”

“Well, you may wish to create flash cards with rules for the declension endings on them. For example, sum, ese, est, and the other verb endings could be situated on one side of a card and sentences containing them on the other.” Cas can hardly hide his grin when Dean mentions soulmates. He watches the man across from him, who is now trying desperately to write on a flashcard resting on his knee. Though the muscle beneath those jeans is firm, the pen doesn’t seem to be working. In a swift movement, Cas brings a clipboard over to Dean, crossing to the roof quickly and causing the other man to jump.

“Dammit, Cas, don’t do that! You startled me.”

“Hello, Dean. I believe you should expect these types of occurances since my room is so close to yours. Here, this should make your writing easier.” Handing over the clipboard, he glances over at Dean’s sloppy notes, the handwriting scrawly and hard to read, never proceeding straight across the page. It makes Cas chuckle, and when he points out the poor penmanship, Dean glares at him.

“Yeah, yeah, but we can’t all be Latin-speaking religious calligraphers like you.” This comment makes Cas freeze for a moment and wonder if he came off as sounding superior, but then Dean elbows him in the ribs and laughs. “I’m just teasing you, man! C’mon, I need your help with this declension.” They sit out on the roof until sunset, after which they go inside and continue their work at Dean’s kitchen table. Cas doesn’t typically use his own table; he’s always been uncomfortable in the kitchen because he can’t cook. When he hesitantly mentions this, Dean says, “Well that can be my payment for your Latin help. You’ll teach me verbs, and I’ll teach you herbs. You’re gonna learn to cook, Cas.”

Of course, there’s the moment of the initial cooking session where flour gets everywhere; on the floor, in the cabinets, even in Dean’s hair—at which point he gets so exasperated that he chucks his apron onto the floor and starts throwing said flour at Cas—they’ve been attempting to bake bread. Cracking an egg is trouble; it keeps crushing in his hands and shell always gets into the bowl. Finally Dean takes his friend’s hand and moves it to smack the egg on the edge of the bowl before putting his thumbs in the cracks and pulling the shell apart so that the egg falls directly inside. Cas looks so surprised and pleased by this that Dean can’t help but smile.


	4. Chapter 3

***  
A few weeks into the semester, they have told each other all about their classes, professors they like and others they don’t; the girls that are pretty—apparently Dean has several not-so-secret admirers in his Chemistry class…

“Appropriate, ain’t it Cas? Of course we have great chemistry,” and he busts out laughing at his terrible joke. Cas surveys him stonily. “Aw come on, I’ve gotta use these bad chemistry jokes because all the good ones Argon!” Cas just shakes his head, still wearing a frosty expression. “What? You’re no fun. Are the chicks not shootin’ looks your way? Is that what your problem is?” 

“No. That is irrelevant. It is not that—I don’t want—” Putting down a dishtowel, as he’d been fiercely scrubbing dishes—there was a bit of day-old lasagna that refused to scrape off—Cas leans against the sink and crosses his arms, trying his hardest to appear aloof and disinterested. He is immensely uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation.

“C’mon, Cas, what’s the problem?” wheedles Dean.

“I don’t usually talk to girls.” Cas mutters, tucking his chin to his chest.

“What?”

“I DON’T TALK TO GIRLS!!! There, I said it! Are you happy now??” He turns away, waiting for Dean to laugh. He doesn’t know a girl well enough to like, or what to talk about with her if he did. No girls ever seemed to want to talk to him when he was in primary school. Or junior high school. Or in any school setting at all. Probably because he hadn’t had the clear knowledge of how to interact with humans, especially those of the opposite sex. Closing his eyes and feeling like a failure for some reason, Castiel feels a strong hand firmly clasp his shoulder.

“Oh, Cas, come on, it’s not too late to talk to one.” Cas looks back up at Dean, his light eyes large and vulnerable, and sniffs.

“It’s not?”

“No. And don’t look like that—so what if no one wanted to talk to you before? I bet you were a bit shy, right? Kept to yourself? Didn’t take the first step? That’s cool, you’re just like Sam. I remember he called me one time when he was fourteen and asked me how to talk to girls.” Dean laughs his hand still resting comfortably on Castiel’s shoulder. “You’ve just gotta compliment ‘em. Say hi first, ask how they’re doin’, stuff like that. This is college, man. Ask about their classes. Tell them about yours. Listen to what they have to say. Or pretend to, even if you think it’s bullshit. Girls like that.”

“What, bullshit?”

“No, Cas! They like a guy who listens to them. Ask questions. Do this stuff after one of your classes tomorrow, and I guarantee you some girl will ask for your phone number.”

“I don’t ask for hers?”

“Nah, I think you can pull off Mr. Mysterious. Kinda quiet, solemn, secretive, y’know. Just stand there in that trench coat you like to wear. What is it with that coat anyway?”

“It makes me feel safe.” Castiel says this with a haughty look that does not completely mask his insecurity. Dean notices this and backs off the teasing.

“All right, you wear your safe trench coat and be mysterious, buddy. Then come tell me how you do. Ask questions. Listen. I’ll be rooting for you.” He releases his friend’s shoulder and grabs the dishtowel. “Now let’s finish these dishes. I’ve got a Latin quiz to study for. So much fun.” He rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs, glad for his friend’s advice, treasuring this moment beside Dean where he feels at home. Hopefully he can keep this feeling in mind when he talks to a girl tomorrow.

When Cas comes over to the window the following day, his eyes are wide and bright and he has what would be a cat-ate-the-canary grin on anyone else’s face. With Cas it is just a look of immense satisfaction. He clambers into Dean’s apartment and says wonderingly,

“You were right, Dean. It does interest people that I am—as you say—mysterious. The female in question began speaking to me about trench coats. Apparently she has a black one. I asked if I could see it, and she said, ‘Usually I don’t wear it until winter, but you won’t have to wait that long.’”

“Hot damn, Cas! She was flirting back at you! Please tell me you gave her your number?”

“Well, actually, she wrote hers on my palm with a Sharpie. It tickled.” Dean grabs his friend’s hand to see the girl’s name (Angela), her phone number, and a smiley face. 

“All right, now you’ve got to wait a few days before you call her. Don’t seem too desperate to go out. I understand these things.” Cas nods solemnly.

“Whatever you say, Dean. It was you who taught me how to court in the first place.” Dean shrugs modestly, as if his help and friendship isn’t the biggest deal in Castiel’s life. Cas just hopes that he can somehow return the favor.


	5. Chapter 4

***  
Cas’s chance comes some time later, on an extremely cold day in early November when he is sitting next to his window reading his world religion textbook. Through their conjoining windows he sees Dean slam into his apartment and start flinging things around, including his backpack, coat, and even his outer flannel shirt. Then Dean sits down abruptly and puts his head in his hands. Castiel is at first nonplussed, confused, and then concerned. He puts down his book and leaps over to tap on Dean’s window. Dean turns his face away but Castiel raps harder until Dean is forced to come unlatch the window and push it open. His face is red and his eyes look abnormally bright, as if he is holding back tears.

“Hey Cas,” he says in a croaky trembling voice, clearing his throat before blinking rapidly and turning away from both the still-open window and his worried friend. “How was your day?” He’s trying to keep the conversation normal, but Cas knows that something is wrong and he can’t stand it.

“What is the matter, Dean?”

“Nothing. Everything’s peaches and cream, buddy.”

“Something is bothering you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you are not.” Castiel knows this, and he is not going to leave his friend alone until he finds a way to help. He climbs down from the sill and goes over to Dean. “Is it your Latin class again? I would be happy to look over your notes. Perhaps I can get a snack for you. Or cook a pie. I have never had an occasion to bake pie before, but…”

“It’s November 2nd.” Dean’s voice is so soft, Cas almost misses it.

“What?”

“That’s what’s bothering me.”

November the second. Castiel mentally runs through everything that has happened on this day in history, but he can come up with nothing that would directly affect Dean. Not knowing what society dictates for a situation like this, but realizing his friend needs his support somehow, Cas kneels next to the chair that Dean has collapsed into. He places a comforting hand tentatively on his friend’s shoulder and with a stifled sob Dean throws his arms around Castiel and buries his face in his friend’s coat. Vestiges of the cold still cling to the other man as he pats Dean’s back awkwardly. 

“My—my mom died in—in a house fire sixteen years ago today.” Dean finally gasps out. “Sam was just a baby. I was four. My dad—he’s never been the same since. Something broke inside him that night. In all of us. And this year…it’s the first time I’ve been away from Sammy too, because I skipped school and drove back home to see him last year. And I don’t know how he’s dealing with it. That’s all.”

That is a lot, Castiel thinks. And it is just like Dean to worry first about how his brother is feeling rather than thinking about himself. It’s one of the reasons Cas cares about Dean so much, because he knows Dean needs someone to watch over him even if Dean himself doesn’t realize this.

“I am sure that Sam is coping as best he can. I have no doubt that if he needs comfort he will call you.”

“Really?” Dean looks up, hopeful, as if the ability to help his baby brother is already dulling the edge of his own grief. Cas wants to stroke the tears off of his friend’s freckled cheeks, but restrains his hand (with difficulty). 

“And your father is there with your brother, is he not?” He has said the wrong thing. Dean’s hands clench in the layers of cloth covering Cas’ back as he mutters, 

“I just hope Dad has the sense not to bother him. If he says or does anything to Sam…” Dean’s voice trails off and the look on his face is dark, closed, and restive. Cas shivers involuntarily; if anyone ever looked at him like that he’d be terrified.

Neither of the friends has ever elaborated on the quality of their home life. From brief bits of conversation they’d had, Castiel found out that Dean was the main caretaker for his little brother Sam. Their dad wasn’t around much, a harsh reality Castiel could relate to. His mother hadn’t been around at all; she was like a dream to Castiel because he had never seen her in life. She was too busy with her charity work, and his Father had an executive position in some company whose name he barely knew; apparently, he had also fathered a lot of other kids and treated them all like charity cases. He and his wife changed jobs often. Castiel was dragged along as an afterthought; he never knew if his parents were proud of him, or if they hated him, or anything. He often found himself talking to them at night, rather than praying to God. It was still a prayer, basically—he used the same format—but added anecdotes like “I got an A on my history test today, Father. Mother, I’ve been doing some sewing in Home Economics. It is a rather difficult procedure, I’m afraid, but hopefully I shall get used to it.” They never answered him, and so Castiel thought of his family the way he thought of God—all-knowing and ever-watchful, distant and silent, yet still there to watch and judge him on his ability to act and be perceived as human. Cas decides to tell Dean some of this, in order to comfort his friend and make him feel less alone. But how to begin? He gently breaks up their hug and moves back, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping them in his trench coat. “Dean—” Castiel bites his lip and looks down. Dean wipes his eyes and focuses on his friend.

“What is it, Cas? Talk to me.” Pulling his flannel shirt back on, Dean clears his throat and runs his hands through his hair to harness his emotions and concentrate on how his buddy is feeling. Stretching his knees apart and leaning forward, Dean trains his eyes on his best friend. It helps melt the expanding lump of ice that is his grief just a little. Dean’s mentality is to be the big brother, the caretaker, the helper of others. He felt so lost in his own personal grief, yet Cas had comforted him and was now willing to add his grief to Dean’s. Dean didn’t get that much—someone who cared enough to help you and then empathize by outlining their own struggles in the process, to prove that you are not alone. Behind Castiel’s seemingly cold exterior, there is a warm and caring soul who just wants to help people. Cas is one of a kind. “It’s crazy how similar our lives have been. Each of us winds up alone. Why do we always end up here? Is it because we have no other choice?” Dean’s voice is flat and drained of emotion as he says this. Even though he hopes and wishes desperately that it isn’t true, he does not think that the sentiment can be contradicted. But he underestimates Castiel.

“I do not believe that, Dean. We are not alone because we have each other. Plus, we do not need to remain here; we can go anywhere after completing our education—even travel the world together!” His voice is all at once so strident and excited that Dean can’t help but smile. “Of course, first we must master our grief,” Castiel adds solemnly.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which makeouts and handjobs happen, as well as a good deal of heart-to-heart conversation. (This is the chapter in which a character references committing suicide, so just be warned.)

***  
After playing Rock Band for a quarter of an hour, Dean and Cas are sprawled on the apartment floor with food wrappers scattered everywhere. There is a Back to the Future marathon on TV and Dean is actually feeling happy. At least, he isn’t choking back tears anymore. Cas wanted a hamburger, and since he’d never used the online ordering system before, they got 20 burgers instead of 2. Dean became helpless with laughter when he looked in the bag. Ten minutes later he isn’t laughing anymore because Cas has already eaten 5 of them and is still going strong. It’s amazing.

“Jesus Christ, where are you PUTTING all that?” Dean asks incredulously.

“I am not Jesus Christ, Dean. These just make me very happy.” Cas’s face is stuffed, smiley, and messy with mustard as he says this.

“Cas, you’ve got a little something on your face,” Dean says.

“Whaa?” Cas mumbles, his mouth bursting with burgers. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Just look at yourself, man.” He grabs his friend and turns him towards the refrigerator’s shiny mirrored surface. Cas looks over and howls with horror. Flinging his garbage into the air and running towards the window, he takes a fighting stance from there.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!! Slow down, dude! What is the matter with you?”

“I—I never…realized…that was there. It looked like a demon or shifter was attacking me. Fridges should not be mirrored! I thought I was going to die!”

Chuckling, Dean says, “Don’t flip out, Cas. If you were dying I would save your life.”

“What do you mean? You would make a deal with a demon?! That is the worst idea I have ever heard, Dean!” Castiel squints at him disapprovingly.

“No, I mean I’d know how to save you! I took a class on first-aid and did CPR training too. You can never be too careful.” Dean frowns. “Why do you think I would make a deal with a demon?! You know I’m not that stupid, right? Plus, demons aren’t real anyway! You should really do less religious reading, Cas,” Dean adds significantly. “I think it’s starting to mess with your head.”

Castiel sits down, once more wrapped in his trench coat. He isn’t sure if he can explain to Dean that religion isn’t all myth; he knows enough about signs and portents—and other, more concrete, immediate things—to be convinced of its reality. And it is important to have faith. But Dean is laughing at the stupefied look on Marty’s face when Doc first mentions gigawatts, and Cas has eaten about ten hamburgers and he is warm and comfy, watching his friend combat devastating sadness with old-fashioned rock music and classic movies; so at that moment all is right with the world. It gets even better when Dean plops down next to him on the couch a few moments later and—almost involuntarily, Castiel feels like, just continuing to be the caretaker—wipes mustard off of the edge of his friend’s mouth since Castiel hadn’t managed to do it himself earlier before freaking out in front of the fridge. Dean then claps Cas on the shoulder and says,

“Listen, buddy, thanks for hanging with me today. It really helped…” He blinks and clears his throat, gesturing with his hand to try to find more adequate words, but Castiel just nods in understanding.

“You are very welcome, Dean.” His bright clear eyes gaze into Dean’s darker cloudy ones. They shake hands firmly, and then pull each other in for a hug. 

Gripping his friend firmly, a feeling of serenity washes over Dean. He hasn’t felt this way in, well, forever, really. The last time he’d been truly happy he’d been hanging out with Sam, so that sort of feeling was only something that he associated with his brother. To feel it with another person is nice. More than nice. It’s different from how he feels around Sammy though, because right now he’s got a fluttery sort of ache in his stomach, as if it is rising and sinking simultaneously. His body just seems to fit naturally next to Cas and… whoa. Dean moves his head, which might be a mistake because now his nose is buried in the side of Cas’s neck and he doesn’t know what to do. And damn, Castiel smells really good. Dean doesn’t want to break up the hug because he feels so safe in Castiel’s arms. His damn trench coat vibes must be rubbing off on me, Dean thought. 

Cas, meanwhile, has frozen with his arms around Dean. His eyes close as he feels stubble graze the side of his neck above his shirt collar and he smiles involuntarily when Dean takes a deep breath through his nose. Castiel rubs his friend’s back and Dean nuzzles his jawbone into Cas’s shoulder. After an eternity, Dean shifts as if to move away, but Castiel doesn’t let go. The two of them are now nose to nose and Dean swallows loudly, his eyes roving over the face of Castiel, which he has never been this close to before. His eyes lock on Cas’s thin lips for just a second, and then neither knows who leaned in, but now they are kissing and it isn’t gross. It isn’t long, either, a quick peck as these things go. Then they are both moving away. Cas is trembling. Dean clears his throat and gets up to grab all of the empty hamburger wrappers off the floor. 

After he throws their trash away, Dean turns around and Castiel is right behind him. Before Dean can react, his friend grabs his face and kisses him again, hard. Dean can’t help it—he kisses Cas back with a need he’d never realized he had felt or could feel. Pushing Castiel to the wall, Dean’s hands grab the trench coat off of his shoulders and fling it to the floor. Cas’ hands go up to cradle Dean as he begins undoing Castiel’s shirt buttons. The pesky tie is giving him some trouble, so Castiel helps out. Dean’s eyes flick to his friend’s face to assure himself that this is okay, and Cas nods in an emphatic ‘yes’ before kissing Dean again. His hands are stroking Dean’s back and shoulders, loosening up the taut muscles as his lips trace a line along Dean’s jawbone to his ear. Dean finally finishes unbuttoning Cas’s dress shirt and it too slides to the ground. Dean raises his arms up and his flannel over- and cotton undershirt are off next. Now they both stand bare-chested in jeans and slacks kissing passionately. 

Cas begins nibbling on Dean’s left earlobe and Dean nuzzles his face against Castiel’s neck. His strong arms tighten as Cas takes a frisky bite of Dean’s upper ear and Dean in turn begins to nip his friend’s shoulder. Next he moves down to kiss and lick Castiel’s collarbone and Cas switches to Dean’s other ear. They are perfectly in sync, attuned to each other after the many days of cooking and studying Latin. Cas understands how Dean moves, his hips swaying from side to side, and so he slides his hands down to cradle those hips now. Dean knows that his friend is rather stiff, and so he firmly yet gently strokes Castiel’s back to loosen him up. A tiny part of his brain whispers that what they are doing is wrong, but Dean pushes that thought away. Right now he doesn’t care what society says is right or what his father would think. Instead he grips Cas on either side and runs his hands up and down his ribcage. Cas’s hands have moved to the back of Dean’s jeans and he is cradling his friend’s posterior. Dean can’t help but grin, and he brings his hands down to undo Castiel’s belt buckle. “Dean,” Cas says, almost a moan, “I—I was wondering if we could…ah…take it slow this time.” His pants drop down to his ankles. “I mean, you know—not all the way, just—just touching.” Dean nods as he begins moving up and down against the length of Castiel’s body in a caress. 

“Of course we can, buddy,” Dean replies. “Whatever you want.” The husky quiet way he says that nearly makes Castiel swoon. He can feel himself getting hard, and so can Dean. Dean moves his pelvis around in a circle, thrusting forward, until the bulge becomes more pronounced. Gently Dean takes Cas in his hand, pulling and stroking him in a rhythm. The friction builds up through Cas’s underwear and a sigh of contentment escapes him as his head rolls back and he smiles towards the sky. After he comes back to earth, it is Dean’s turn. He decides to keep his jeans on, so Castiel has a more challenging time, but he gets Dean off anyway. They go back over to the couch afterwards and snuggle, Dean’s head resting in the juncture of Castiel’s neck and shoulder. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs contentedly into his friend’s smooth skin, “You are an angel.” Castiel beams happily into the dark. Dean doesn’t know the half of it.

“Thank you, Dean. You are pretty wonderful too.”

They sit there, breathing in the feeling of each other’s warmth and reveling in the closeness. A little time later, Dean’s cellphone rings. It’s a call from Sam. Cas has never seen Dean move so fast; jolting up off the couch, zipping up his pants, and running his hands through his mussed hair before stepping into the kitchen. “I’ve gotta take this, Cas,” he says. Castiel nods.

“All right, Dean. I will just wait here then.” Dean smirks at those words and flips open his phone.

“Hey, Sammy,” he says, voice husky. “How’re you doin’? I’m good. Yeah, I’m holdin’ up okay. My buddy Cas is here. He’s helping me out.” With those words, and the soft look Dean has on his face when he says them, Castiel realizes how much he has been able to help Dean with his presence, friendship, and love. His heart swells with happiness as Dean continues to talk. “So, uh, how’s Dad? Uh-huh. Wait. He left? You’re aLONE?!” Dean’s voice is rising. “Sam, you’re only sixteen. Yeah, I know you can handle yourself, little brother. I just—” He sighs heavily. “I just worry about you, that’s all. I want you to be safe. And I can’t take care of you if I’m out here.” His voice breaks at this point, and Castiel can’t stand it—he rises and goes over to Dean, sliding his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his head on top of Dean’s right shoulder. Cas can feel the tension twang throughout Dean’s body as he continues to speak. “Yeah, but I can’t HELP it, Sam—this is the only time I haven’t been there with you when Dad’s gone. I can’t believe him, the selfish bastard…” Cas tightens his grip and kisses Dean’s shoulder before gently nuzzling his neck. In a voice that is barely more than a breath, Castiel says,

“It will be okay, Dean. No doubt Sam has learned from you how to be safe.” This comment must’ve come along with a similar one from Sam, because Dean relaxes in a whoosh.

“All right, then. The doors are locked, and you’re willing to shoot first and ask questions later, right? No bein’ Mr. Bleeding Heart when you’re on your own! Good. Okay. Yeah. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye Sammy.” He hangs up, slowly lowering his left arm to put the phone back in his jeans pocket. Castiel loosens his hands and steps back in case Dean needs his space for a minute, but that issue is resolved when Dean whirls and pins him in his arms with a fierce kiss. “Thanks, Cas,” he mutters after the kiss is done. Castiel slowly opens his eyes, raising his lids in a gaze of adoration that makes Dean once more swallow audibly.

“Of course, Dean. I will always be here to watch out for you.”

“Yeah. That’s good. Um, would you—I mean, it’s kinda late, so…” Cas steps back quickly, his face falling involuntarily, and says,

“Ah, yes. I understand. I don’t wish to impose—I have probably stayed too long. I will go home immediately…” He turns to gather up his shirt, tie, and trench coat before Dean unfreezes and grabs onto his elbow.

“Whoa, hang on, man! I wasn’t telling you to leave—hell no—I was just…wondering if—you’d like to stay the whole night.” Dean’s voice has lowered to a mumble and he shifts uncomfortably with one hand still fisted in his jeans pocket and the other clutching Cas before snapping back to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. How do people normally do this shit? Castiel’s eyes widen and he looks at Dean in shock for a millisecond before grinning from ear to ear. Dean doesn’t understand how he found Cas so remote and hard to read at first. Especially when looking at him now: his face is bright and open with delight.

“Yes Dean, I would like that very much.”

“Good.” Dean huffs out a short breath. “I just—I don’t want to be alone right now.” The other man nods in understanding. 

“I will gladly stay here with you, Dean. Just let me collect my nightclothes and a few other necessities.” He grins at Dean and squeezes him around the still-bare waist in a quick hug before pulling on his pants and almost skipping over to the window. Dean shakes his head and chuckles.

“Wow Cas, you couldn’t look any happier if you tried.” Castiel turns around whilst shrugging into his coat on the window ledge, and says seriously,

“Of course I am happy. I am with you, Dean.” Then he leaves, which is good because it gives Dean a moment to compose himself. To get a compliment like that…that he has the ability to make someone so HAPPY… especially Cas, who has become the best friend he’s ever had in a just a few months—it has never happened to Dean before. Well, there’s Sammy, but that’s a bit different because they are brothers. It’s almost obligatory for Dean to make him happy. But Cas isn’t family. He has CHOSEN to love Dean, with all his flaws and anger issues and super macho flirtations with girls—which actually do come to something—and before Cas girls were (almost) all he ever noticed. Then this soft-spoken, seemingly standoffish, socially awkward, earnest, kind, good young man with gorgeous blue eyes, thick dark hair, and thin pale pink lips got placed in the apartment next to his…and that was it. A knock on the window and Cas re-entering interrupts Dean’s thoughts, which is all right with him. A few snowflakes are melting in Castiel’s dark hair.

“It started snowing,” He reports, unnecessarily, slinging a small bag off of his shoulder. Dean rolls his eyes before going over to Castiel and running his hands through the man’s cold wet curls.

“Well thanks, Captain Obvious. You’ll get a cold if your hair stays wet like that. We’ve gotta fix it.” Cas nods agreeably and closes his eyes as Dean strokes his tresses with firm deep finger movements. Then Dean kisses his hair, lips and tongue finding the drops of melting snow, before going over Cas’s forehead and cheeks and nose, eventually reaching his mouth. The rest of Castiel’s face has become frigid from the snow-filled wind, but his mouth is warm, inviting, and minty-fresh, and Dean kisses Cas hungrily even as he expertly combs the snow from each lock of hair. Cas kisses him back, their tongues melding together even as the snow melts from his garments and messy mop, drip-drip-dripping like the volume of their desire, the quantity rising to an astonishing heat that spreads throughout Castiel’s body, ending up as a warm glow that fills his chest cavity, the pit of his stomach, and lower. He is clutching Dean tight and they do a clumsy side-stepping dance down the hallway towards the bedroom, Dean’s right arm outstretched and fumbling for doors and light switches so that neither of them falls.

Stumbling into his bedroom, Dean sprawls flat on his back on the bed. Cas kneels over him and from Dean’s position it looks like he’s flying, his trench coat a pair of wings holding Dean safe and secure just below his angel. But that holy image is instantly dispelled when Cas bites Dean’s nipples and flicks them with his thumbs before massaging up and down Dean’s chest in an ever-quickening rhythm. Dean can feel himself getting hot and hard again. He gasps and moans, thrusting his hips upward in a snakelike movement that Castiel follows, tangling his legs around Dean’s, stroking his back and sides before bringing his head down to kiss Dean’s stomach and hips and quivering thighs after slowly shedding Dean’s jeans and dropping them to the floor. “God, you’re such a tease,” Dean grunts, kiddingly irked as Castiel moves his attentions back to his upper body. They travel together in a frenetic dance full of deep unspoken passion and emotion. Neither one has yet come; they have changed the course of this carnal situation from hungry and desperate to methodical and hot to slapdash and slow. Cas gently lowers himself on top of Dean and mouths endearments into his ear. Dean’s eyes are closed, his arms holding Castiel’s waist in a firm embrace. His lips brush the top of Cas’s shoulders and then move down his arms and back. Dean rolls himself over Castiel even as Cas continues to whisper sweet nothings. Dean slides from place to place: nuzzling and stroking the fine hairs on Cas’s lower back before moving downwards to massage his knobby knees. His conversation with Sam has sharpened his focus, given Dean the need to prove his devotion to this man who has helped Dean so much with his friendship and love. Dean couldn’t have survived this night without him.

He couldn’t have survived the night without him. 

This realization hits Dean like a blow, a burn, a shock…even though he knows it, has always known it, just how close he is to the knife’s edge of harming himself, of leaving the world forever. The hopeless angry grief is an old thing, always ready to resurface and cause him to lash out at someone—that was how he’d gotten into fights and had a few restraining orders, but he’d never been so close to lashing in at himself, as it were. Recognizing that this thought had been in his head today before Castiel arrived makes him gasp and leave off his kisses. Castiel notices; he had stretched out on his stomach and Dean was kneeling over him, trailing kisses down his spine, but now Cas rolls back over and raises his head to look at his friend.

“Is something the matter, Dean?” He sees Dean’s wide eyes and pale face, with his freckles standing out starkly in the half-light, and Cas instantly comes out of the lazy bliss that Dean’s gentle devotions had put him into. “Dean, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Dean gasps. “I…I am. But only—only because of you, Cas.” He slowly turns and moves to kneel on the end of the bed. Castiel sits up and scoots over next to him, close but not touching. His eyebrows are creased in a frown. There is something that Dean hasn’t said yet.

“Are you absolutely certain of that?” Cas asks softly. Dean looks at him, a grateful look, but it’s the grateful gaze of someone who is drowning or dying of cancer; for which that one final kick or kind word or special radiation treatment only delays the inevitable. It worries Castiel greatly. “I am glad to hear this, but something is wrong, other than—than the anniversary of your mother’s demise.”

“No,” Dean shudders slightly. “That something is the same something. At least, it caused this something.” Castiel’s head tilts and he gazes at Dean quizzically. Dean barks out a quiet laugh devoid of humor and clamps his hand firmly on Cas’s knee. “Cas, buddy, I’m talking about the worst thing a religious person like you can think of.” He takes a deep breath and turns his head away. “Suicide.” Castiel takes a sharp breath. Dean shakes his head. “I know, I know, it’s a sin.” He says thickly. “But living without Mom…seeing what her death did to Dad; knowing, just knowing that he couldn’t really take care of me or my brother—not without her, so I had to be the one to watch out for Sammy…and then having to go on living, go to school and pack lunches and write notes from our parents to excuse them from going to conferences or Parent Night because let’s face it, Dad didn’t have the time for that,” he laughs hollowly. “And me having to explain to Sam when he first learned to talk and ask questions why—why we didn’t have a mom. And man, I tried so hard to help him, to listen, to answer all his questions but…” his jaw clenches. “I wanted Sam to be a kid for as long as possible, but he's always been super smart, a whole lot smarter than me. He never stopped asking questions; I'd tell him the truth about things, but I couldn’t explain everything. And Dad didn’t try. So Sam got his own ideas and his own streak of stubbornness. I let him. I was proud of him. But when he’d talk to Dad like that—in a way that wasn’t respectful enough for a son—I got blamed for it. Because I didn’t do something right, because I had to teach HIM even when I still had a lot to learn. And I tried SO HARD but sometimes it just wasn’t enough.” Dean swipes at his eyes before continuing. “And whenever I went out with a girl, I had to meet her mother, look in her face, talk nicely to her… And I had to deal with the pity, the looks, those sad cow eyes some people give you because they think you’re ‘fragile’ or whatever; yeah, yeah, all of that. I got so SICK of it. Then there were the others who told you to ‘suck it up, get a grip, aww go cry to mommy—oh wait’. So I’d beat the living hell out of them and get suspended for starting a fight. It’s amazing I got accepted into college,” he shakes his head wonderingly. “...I can’t let go of Mom. I still see her. Pictures of her…reminders of her. Everywhere. I got a restraining order filed against me because I wouldn’t stop visiting and following my old girlfriend’s mom around. I was sixteen then, and in a hard place. Sam was twelve and I was his surrogate dad at the conference meetings all through middle school. I looked a lot older; the teachers knew I was the big brother, but they still talked to me like I was his dad. It screwed me up. I protected and took care of this kid, and these teachers come in, not knowing him, saying things like: ‘He’s antisocial’ and ‘he needs to grow up, get into sports, and play with the other kids’ oh yeah and ‘he shouldn’t act like he knows so much, stop answering every question’ and the kicker: ‘middle school is a tough time, it takes a while to find yourself’… Well hell, it doesn’t get any easier with YOU stupid assholes trying to change him! He’s great and he shouldn’t change a damn thing. Get the other kids to try to get to know HIM. He’s shy. Takes a little while to come out of his shell, but if he’s talking in class that’s a start, dammit! Long story short, I got banned from coming to any more meetings because Sam’s teacher said I ‘harassed’ him. And all Dad said to me when I explained myself, my actions, and all of that shit they said, was ‘I’ll go talk to them next time, Dean. Why don’t you tell Sammy to talk to somebody? Go outside and teach him how to throw a football.’ I couldn’t. I didn’t even know how to play football really. It’s something a dad teaches you to pick up. And he didn’t do it with me. So I couldn’t do it with Sam. But that’s not even the POINT, because Dad would just go in there and AGREE with those asshats about Sam needing to interact with the other children and not be such a nerd. But I know him. That’s not who he is. He doesn’t like sports much except for track. He talks to people once he learns something about them and he reads books because he’s interested. He likes reading! He likes to study and to learn! And his own father couldn’t see that. And I couldn’t make him. I still can’t. My dad doesn’t see me except as the caretaker for little Sammy but he doesn’t really see Sam either. And that makes me feel like a failure. I can’t be a father, I can’t be a mother; I’m just the wayward big brother who doesn’t have a clue what to do with his life now that he’s on his own! I’m at rock bottom,” Dean whispers, curling into a ball, hands clutching his hair.

Castiel has gone to him now, wrapping his long arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulling him back into the secure warmth of his chest. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispers, trying not to let his voice break. “I am so so sorry.” There isn’t anything else to say. He holds Dean close for a little while, before Dean can recover enough to straighten up and look at him again. He turns and faces Cas head-on for what he has decided to say, leaning in to touch Castiel’s forehead with his own.

“Or I was at the bottom until I met you. You saved me, Cas. That’s what I’m trying to say. You being here…made things better. I can talk to you. I can trust you. I can also kiss you and make sweet love to you,” Dean adds with a wicked little smile. “You told me about your crappy home life to cheer me up, to prove to me that I’m not alone.” He puts a quelling finger to Castiel’s mouth before Cas can say anything. “And yeah, I get that now. That’s why I quit kissing you. I realized that…I’m gonna be okay, because of you.” Dean clears his throat and moves his head back a bit before transferring one hand to Cas’s cheek. Cas, whose eyes are now shining with tears. “Sap,” Dean murmurs. Castiel chuckles and rolls his bleary eyes.

“I find this situation a bit ironic, Dean. You stopped kissing me when you realized what I meant to you and you are calling me a sap when you have just professed that I have rescued you from the brink of self-destruction, like a guardian angel.” Dean raises an eyebrow and leans in close.

“Well are you?” Dean’s lips brush against Cas’s.

“Am I what?” Castiel’s breath hitches at the touch of Dean’s lips, and he gasps as Dean bites down on the lower one before leaning back again.

“Are you my guardian angel? C’mon Cas, you’re the religious one. Tell me if it’s possible; is this something I can believe in?”

“If I am enough empirical evidence for you, than yes, Dean. I said that I will always watch over you. I am here.”

“Hell yeah you’re here,” Dean growls, pulling Castiel close again. “And you aren’t going anywhere.” He gives Cas a ferocious kiss, clutching the thick dark hair at the nape of his neck in a vicelike grip. Cas smiles into the kiss, wrapping his own arms even tighter around Dean. When they finally come up for air, Cas whispers,

“Is that a challenge I hear in your voice, Mr. Winchester?”

“No. It’s a promise,” Dean mutters. “You aren’t leaving me.” Cas laughs and pulls Dean into a more comfortable position against his chest.

“Well if that is how you feel, then it is a promise I swear I intend to keep.”

“Good,” Dean sighs into Cas’s chest, tucking his head underneath the other’s chin and encircling Castiel’s waist with his arms once again. He’d meant to seal the deal in a massive climax of overwhelming passion, but instead Dean is experiencing a massive amount of overwhelming exhaustion. He is about to drift off to sleep when a stray thought crosses his mind. “So I guess that means you aren’t gonna call Angela again, huh?”

“Actually, I have corresponded with her. She is coming over to my apartment tomorrow.”

“Are you serious, Cas? What the hell for?!” Dean lifts himself up and stares at Castiel incredulously, totally awake now. 

“Yes, I am perfectly serious, Dean. We are going to study together for the Humanities midterm.” Cas’s blue eyes crinkle with amusement and his chest shakes with silent laughter. Dean breathes hard and rolls his eyes before turning his face away from Cas, shifting his shoulders to crack them, and lying down again. “Were you jealous?”

“What? No. I knew you were kidding. You—” He shakes his head and begins to snigger quietly as well. “I admit it, you almost got me.” Cas is laughing aloud now and he kisses Dean’s temple whilst gently stroking his golden brown hair from nape to forehead. Christ, it feels good.

“Well, you may put your worries to rest,” Castiel assures him. “You, Dean Winchester, are the only one for me.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean tilts his head back and grins up at the guardian of his heart. “Likewise.”


	7. Chapter 6

***  
Angela is a pretty girl, Dean has decided. She obviously has designs on Castiel, that much he figures out when he looks through the window and sees her gaze at Cas. He’s not spying, really; it’s not his fault this is window-cleaning day and he has to dust off his movie shelf…okay yeah, he’s spying. He’ll admit it. But who would blame him for being protective after the emotional experience he and Cas shared last night? Angela is short and willowy; her eyes are as huge and dark as her long luxurious hair; and her laugh is obviously infectious. She giggles and swats Castiel’s elbow whenever he says something dorky. Which is a lot. She is wearing the black trench coat, and Dean grits his teeth even as he grins at the sight of Cas awkwardly taking it off her shoulders and hanging it on a hook by the door. He is just being polite, but Angela obviously doesn’t realize that by the big cow eyes she’s giving him. Yuck.

Dean shakes his head and turns away, whistling ‘Sweet Child o’ Mine’ as he swabs his kitchen table clean, a tricky task because Cas always seems to spill his cooking experiments on it. Dean grins ruefully and resists the urge to peer once more into Castiel’s room. Cas has a life outside of me, I’ll just have to get used to that, Dean decides finally. He shoots one last look over his shoulder at Castiel’s window, and to his surprise Cas is gazing back. He gives Dean a tiny smile and a nod before going back to his study session. That one look should be enough to put Dean’s jealousy to rest, because in Castiel’s grin is longing and desire, plus regret that he scheduled the study session right now because Dean is looking GOOD in that tight gray t-shirt with a bit of sweat on the back and a dishtowel slung over his left shoulder…or that’s what Dean WISHES is going through Castiel’s mind, anyway. He can’t be sure; unless—Dean drops the dishtowel and sprints over to his cabinet to grab a bag of chips and then snatches a Rolling Stones CD off the top of his stack. 

Slipping into an old pair of tennis shoes and his most charming smile, Dean goes out into the hall and knocks on Castiel’s door, something he’s never done before. A moment later Cas opens it, his face the picture of confusion, brow wrinkled and blue eyes squinty. It’s absolutely adorable.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says. “Sorry to barge in on ya, but I was cleaning my room and remembered you saying you wanted to listen to the Rolling Stones. So I brought this CD ove…oh I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?” Dean adds innocently as Angela gets up and moves to stand next to Cas, who in turn shuffles gallantly to one side to ensure that no one is in anyone else’s personal space.

“Just a study session,” Cas says, his brow still slightly furrowed as he takes the CD. “Thank you for the music.” He expects Dean to leave, but instead Dean does that charming deep voice thing that makes most people weak at the knees and holds out his hand for Angela to shake.

“Well hello there, I’m Dean Winchester. Who might you be?”

“I’m Angela, from Castiel’s Humanities class.” She giggles; this girl may be into Cas, but not many women are immune to Dean’s charms. Castiel. Well at least she’s being proper; they haven’t exchanged nicknames yet. Good.

“Nice to meet you, Angela. You have a gorgeous head of hair. It’s nice and thick and flowing.” He darts a significant look at Cas when he says this. Cas just stares at him.

“Um…thanks.” Angela bashfully tucks a curl behind her ear.

“You’re very welcome. Oh,” Dean pulls out his bag of potato chips. “Are you guys hungry from studying? I just opened this bag and you can have some if you want. Here.” He hands the chip bag to Castiel, whose face is slightly flushed with—pleasure? Embarrassment? Anger?

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel takes the bag of chips graciously. “Shouldn’t you be going now?” Cas nods his head at the window. “I thought this was your window-cleaning day.” Dean gulps. Cas gets it. He knew Dean would be jealous after the previous night’s conversation and was egging him on, the sly bastard.

“Uh, yeah. Just wanted to say hello, so uh, I’ll go now. Bye Angela!” He says, flustered.

“Nice to meet you, Dean!” She replies from the table where she has returned to organize an enormous pile of color-coded flash cards.

“See you, Cas,” Dean says.

“Dean?” Cas clears his throat. Dean turns so quickly he almost trips over his own toes. Damn. He has it BAD.

“Yeah?” For a second Cas just gazes at him warmly and then he runs his tongue over those succulent lips, almost giving Dean heart failure, before finally saying,

“Thanks for the CD.”

“Huh? Oh. Oh that, yeah. The Stones. You’re welcome. I think you’ll like it. I’m just—gonna go finish cleaning.” Dean jogs back to his door, closes it and slides to the floor before shutting his eyes and emitting a loud groan. That was horrible. Absolutely horrible. He hadn’t accomplished anything at all, except for babbling like an idiot in front of Angela, who he’d meant to scope out. Well, he’d messed THAT up royally. She probably knew all of his secrets now, rather than the other way around. She was cute and obviously smart as well; otherwise Cas wouldn’t be interested in being with her. That thought hits Dean like a sucker punch to the gut. What is Cas doing with him, anyway? He isn’t clever by any stretch of the imagination; well, he was smart enough to get into college, but just barely—he isn’t in the Honor Society or anything. Dean’s just barely passing Latin with his neighbor’s help (and he is absolutely positive that Professor Crowley wants to steal his soul). 

Dean sighs deeply. Here he goes again—he always fucking does this to himself; in every relationship he’s ever had, there was something that stopped it from getting too serious. With Robyn, Cassie, and Lisa he’d always been the one to do something to rationalize a breakup… it had never occurred this fast is all. He thinks of Cas holding him as he spilled his guts the night before, getting out all of that emotional baggage that was crushing him—Castiel’s strong arms around him, his earnest blue eyes, his complete willingness to listen to Dean’s rants. Fuck. Dean stands up and runs his hands through his hair before blasting Van Halen out of the speakers he’d jerry-rigged himself. It’s no good. He can’t shake the thought from his head: he is falling in love with Cas. And that must be rectified immediately. Dean cannot stand to hurt him the way he hurt Robyn and Cassie and Lisa. And the only remedy for that is not to give Castiel a chance to be hurt. The reason he wants to have Cas around is to keep himself comfortable and sane, but falling in love is just too risky. There is a one hundred percent chance of detrimental fallout if the two of them don’t break up. To stop these unwelcome thoughts, Dean turns into a whirlwind cleaning machine, scrubbing the kitchen counters, cabinets, and table until they gleam. He is so focused that he doesn’t hear Castiel come through the window until he stands behind him and says,

“Hello, Dean.” Dean jumps about a foot, flinging his sponge into the open door of the oven and leaning heavily over the sink.

“Jeez, Cas, don’t DO that,” he says, breath quickly leaving him in his shock. “How’d your study date go?”

“It went well, though it was not a date, Dean. Angela just went back to her dormitory.” Dean grins lopsidedly over his shoulder as he retrieves his sponge from the interior of the oven. No need for Plath-like cleaning today…

“Oh come on man, you had to see the way she was looking at you. She’s cute and smart, too. I figured you’d like her.” Cas is puzzled; he tilts his head in the adorable fashion he has and Dean can’t bear to look at him.

“I don’t like her that way, though. You don’t have to worry, Dean.” Dean turns away, shaking his head and scrubbing vigorously around the sink’s drain with the sponge. This is going to be much more difficult than he originally thought.

“She’s even got her own trench coat. You can be one of those cute couples that match each other.” Dean feels sick. He looks over at Castiel once more, whose face has fallen into a look of startled dejection. Are those tears in his eyes? Damn.

“I…I thought that you liked me,” Castiel whispers. “Last night, you told me of your situation and we spent the night together. We had a connection.” What about your promise that I’m not leaving you? Am I not your guardian angel?! Castiel cries in his mind, eyes wide with shock and pain.

“Oh hell, Cas,” Dean is desperately blinking back tears. He flings his arms up and yells, “I’m never gonna be smart like Angela, okay? I’m a mess; I’ve got more problems than God himself! She’s much better for you!” Dropping the sponge and crumpling up the dishcloth that was on his shoulder, Dean flings both into the sink and freezes in that position, shoulders hunched and heart hammering, waiting for Cas to storm out, slamming the window latch shut, or maybe he’d even use the door, breaking their routine like he’s breaking Dean’s heart. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears that Dean almost misses Castiel’s quiet reply.

“That is what this is about? You feel you are not intelligent enough for me?” There is a mammoth note of incredulity in Castiel’s voice as he comes to Dean and wraps his arms around his waist. “Would you like me to tell you why I love you, Dean?” Dean’s breath hitches. Love. Castiel said love. Holy shit—they’ve only known each other for three months and just got together the previous day…if ‘getting together’ was even what you called it. Dean swallows; he is unable to speak at the moment. He can only nod. Castiel chuckles, pressing a kiss to each of Dean’s shoulder blades. “I admire your passionate intensity about issues that interest or bother you. I love the way you walk right after you have said something smart-alecky. I love the way you stand, solidly, patiently dealing with my nonexistent cooking skills. I love the way you dance with your heart and soul and hips,” he smiles, thrusting his own pelvis forward to prove his point. Dean can’t help it; he grins back. “I love the way you pump your fist whenever a good song comes on the radio, and then when you shut your eyes tight as you belt out the chorus. You are organized and methodical, Dean. My cleaning is haphazard at its best; you look at a room and know exactly what must be done to improve it. You are incredibly charming—as you demonstrated earlier with Angela—and yet you are also vulnerable. There must be someone around to watch over you because you take care of everyone but yourself. You have put so much on your shoulders, as with caring for your younger brother. You are full of so much love, Dean Winchester, but your first instinct is to push everyone away because you do not want to feel it. You are afraid of hurting others and of them hurting you—because everyone you love has eventually left you. Your mother did this unwillingly with her untimely death; and your father…”

“He left us on our own,” Dean spits, finally able to use his voice because it’s easier to be bitterly angry at his father than it is to be hobbled by grief for his mom or hopelessly enamored with Cas. “Not only when he actually left us at home by ourselves, but his outlook completely changed. He didn’t try to be a dad anymore. He was a fucking Marine machine. It was so selfish of him!” Dean is shouting now, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I had no problem watching out for Sammy but I didn’t know what to do! I STILL have no idea! What was I supposed to do, Cas? What am I supposed to do???” Dean hates this, he hates the fact that he’s breaking down again for the second day in a row. He does his best to suck back the tears, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, and it works. He manages not to cry, but Castiel turns him around and pulls him close for a hug anyway.

“You are doing fine, Dean,” Cas says softly, his deep gravelly voice reverberating through Dean’s body, comforting him against his will. “You are living life the best you can, just as all of us do. And if your best life does not include me…well, I will leave this apartment and allow you to live it. But you must promise me something,” Cas adds firmly, grabbing Dean’s face and staring into those bright green eyes with a steady steelly blue gaze of his own, “You must promise me that my departure will do you good. If you are only thinking of the possibility of hurting me, that is unacceptable. You deserve to be loved, Dean Winchester. But if I am not the person you need to love you, I understand.” Castiel stops speaking and waits for Dean to reply. Dean doesn’t. He can’t. His heart is full to bursting with words he cannot bring himself to say. With a miniscule nod and a sad smile, Castiel turns away. He gets out of the window and is halfway in through his own before Dean finally finds his voice.

“CAS! Castiel, wait. Don’t leave me, Cas, I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” he is gasping out these words, desperate now, dammit, lunging at the window that Castiel has considerately closed so the cold doesn’t come inside. But the cold doesn’t matter to Dean. He yanks up on the latch and sees Cas’s face through the glass; he has turned around but his window is closed too, and—“Shit,” Dean says, looking around wildly for a hammer or a crowbar. He finds a long-handled spatula in the kitchen and forces it under the edge of his window frame. With an awful grating sound the window moves upward and Dean throws the spatula before jamming his fingers into the miniscule space, probably getting ten thousand splinters but who cares—and he is out on his little roof and the wind is blowing now that the sun has set and it’s fucking freezing but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. Castiel is still crouching by his window, just staring at Dean, not opening it or saying anything. That’s all right. Dean figures he has to begin; he owes it to the other man. “Cas,” he says, reaching out and pressing his hand to the glacial surface of the glass so as not to fall face-first off of his roof. Pinpricks of pain like ice shards shoot into his fingertips, but he willfully continues. “I’m such an idiot. I did it again. You’re right. I do this to everyone, anyone who’s ever been interested in getting close to me, I…I push them away so I don’t hurt them and they don’t hurt me. That’s what I mean about not being smart too. I’m not smart with relationships or whatever and I’m scared of this, what this is between us—” he gestures wildly, “because people get hurt, people who are different in any way and being like—like this, I never…I didn’t know for sure that I was, before you. And my dad will hate it. Hate me. He probably won’t speak to me again when I tell him about you and me and us.” It’s not like he speaks to me that much now, but we’ll have even less of a chance of reconnecting now since Cas and I have found each other, Dean adds in thought wrathfully. “And Sammy…I don’t know. I’m terrified of alienating myself from my family, man, but I don’t wanna lose you. I need you. You’re —you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Castiel looks at him silently for a moment, and then calls through the glass,

“You were going to tell your father about me?”

“Yeah, I mean, I hadn’t exactly figured out HOW to do it, but we get out for break in five weeks, and I figured I’d have thought of something by then.” Dean runs his hands through his hair. “I get it that now there might not be anything to tell but I wanted—before I thought about you needing someone smarter than me—ugh I just can’t stop screwing this up.” He kicks his foot out in frustration, the same way he does whenever he works on a difficult bit of Latin, and Cas breaks into a smile. He turns and moves to open the window, but then looks down and his smile shrinks slightly.

“Dean.” Cas knocks on the glass. “I think we may have a situation.”

“Well no shit, buddy, that’s why I’m freezing my ass off out here talking to you!” Castiel shakes his head.

“Not that. Look.” Dean looks down as well and curses as he realizes why Cas has been crouched in the same odd position for the entire time. The tail of his trench coat is stuck beneath the window ledge and it has slammed shut. Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head in resignation and disbelief.

“I’ll get the spatula,” he says. “And a knife to pick the outside lock on the top latch.” Cas’s eyes widen.

“You’ll cut yourself!”

“Seriously, Cas, don’t mom out. I’ll be fine.” He’s about to go back into his room but then stops and turns around again. “But if I’m gonna be out here a long time, I need assurance that it’ll be worth my while.” He grins that dashing Dean grin and Cas blows on the glass to create steam. With his right index finger, he tries to draw a heart. Dean rolls his eyes. “You really are a sap,” he says as Cas scrawls ‘Forgiven’ in slightly less elegant letters than usual. “But that’s okay with me.” He retrieves the spatula and manages to open the window after the wind blows hard enough to nearly knock him off the roof twice, forcing him to flatten himself against the side of the building. “Christ almighty,” Dean hisses, his teeth doing an Irish jig in his mouth. “It’s colder than the ninth circle of Hell out here. Can I come in?” Instead, Cas comes out, wrapping his newly freed trench coat around Dean and kissing him senseless. Dean kisses back so forcefully that he knocks Cas off-balance and the two of them fall into Castiel’s room in a flurry of snowflakes.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which cuteness, cooking, and carnal relations occur.

***  
Cas’s apartment is much more cluttered than Dean’s. He has to move a shoe out from under his spine when he slides off the window seat, a shivering Dean directly on top of him. Cas still has the trench coat wrapped around both of them, and he’s rubbing his hands quickly up and down Dean’s arms to warm him up. Dean’s still wearing just an old pair of jeans and that tight gray t-shirt, for God’s sake. As Castiel kisses Dean’s lips he notes the deep purple shade of them, and covers them firmly with his own, sucking and biting and nuzzling Dean’s face and mouth to get him warm. Dean gasps and opens his mouth to Cas’s tongue, which seems to reach inside him and attach itself to his very soul. Just like the rest of Castiel: his entire wiry six-foot frame, those protruding shoulder blades and long arms that curl so tenderly around Dean… He feels a single icy tear slipping down his face, but it doesn’t have the chance to freeze—Cas immediately brushes it away before gently kissing Dean’s eyelids as if to say, ‘it’s okay to cry; that just means you’re feeling’. He only pulls away when Dean shivers violently, and then it’s just enough to grab his big fluffy blanket from the floor and wrap it around both of them so that they can snuggle. Dean jams his face into Castiel’s shoulder, nuzzling his jaw into Cas’s collarbone and pressing his cold lips to Cas’s warm neck. Castiel shifts up into a sitting position and keeps his arms firmly around Dean, who by now has almost stopped shivering. They stay like that for a while, Dean refusing to move even an inch away from Castiel’s shoulder. His butt is firmly planted in Castiel’s lap and he looks so comfortable there that Cas would think he had fallen asleep were it not for the random tiny kisses Dean peppers him with every few minutes. He finally unsheathes a hand from the tangled pile of blanket and coat and shirts and bodies to place it on Castiel’s face. Dean’s lips, warmer now and slowly returning to their former shade of pink, press to Cas’s cheek in the longest sweetest kiss that Castiel has ever felt. He closes his eyes and clasps his hand over Dean’s. Then he turns just a little and stares lovingly into Dean’s apple/forest/bottle green eyes. Those eyes had marked him on the very first day, when he’d shaken Dean’s hand and crawled through the window just for a promise of pie.

“I can’t believe it,” Castiel murmurs. “All this time, all of my love for you, it began when I asked to share your pie.” Dean chuckles softly.

“Well, pie is the best of all things. It’s a miracle food, Cas. So it makes perfect sense that your first attraction to me happened in pie’s presence.” Cas nods thoughtfully. He had come to this school purposely to locate Dean, but upon actually meeting him…

“I knew after you denounced God as a first-class dick that you had marked my heart.” Dean winces and his eyes widen.

“Seriously, dude? Please tell me you’re joking. That is the absolute worst way to be ‘marked’ by someone or whatever you said. What does that even mean?”

“To be marked? It means I knew you were special, Dean. That you’d mean a lot to me. It initially clicked when you gave me my nickname. I had never been called anything but Castiel before, and you calling me Cas—doing that, well, you befriended me. I had never experienced friendship beforehand.”

“Whoa, hang on man—you just told me that no GIRLS talked to you when you were in school…you mean to tell me no guys talked to you either??” 

“Well, they did talk to me but only to taunt me about the chronic absence of my Father and my inability to keep myself clean. Apparently wearing the same trench coat day after day without taking it off once during school hours constituted as it being dirty.” Dean shifts his shoulders and clenches his jaw furiously. He despises bullying in any form, and being ignored entirely except to be laughed at is one of the worst feelings in the world.

“I wish I’d known you then,” Dean says. “I’d’ve beat the hell out of all of them and then taken you out to get a milkshake.” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying, except that if Cas’s only friend so far in college is Dean, he really should branch out more. “Cas, you need to make some more friends.” Castiel blinks at Dean, bemused.

“But I have you, and Angela…isn’t that enough?” Dean snorts.

“Well, Angela’s just your study buddy, and I think you and I are, uh…a little more than friends.” An enormous sunny smile splits Castiel’s face when Dean says this, so he continues quickly in order to not become distracted by looking at the glowing expression on the other man’s countenance. “And that’s great, but um, we can’t just hang out with each other ALL the time. You need to have some social interaction outside of classes. You should get involved in a club or something. I met this dude Benny the other day; he’s an RA in charge of on-campus social events. He seems pretty cool. I can ask him if there are any nerdy clubs for you to join.” Dean elbows Cas teasingly, and Cas laughs at him.

“If it would make you happy, I will join a club, Dean.”

“No, man, it’s not about making ME happy, I’m doing this for you! It’s a crime you’ve never had friends before coming to college!” Dean isn’t the type to get close to people, but he did have a few buddies to mess around with back home, and he could always hang out with Sammy… Cas was an only child (with a bunch of half-siblings and step siblings, but he didn’t have much in common with any of them), not to mention he didn’t get to spend quality time with his parents—even going to a gun range at the age of nine was better than sitting alone at home. Castiel is the type of guy who needs social interaction, no matter how shy he is at an initial meeting. Dean can tell this by the utter bliss Castiel shows when the two of them are cooking something together; or today when he was studying with and talking to Angela. Castiel soaks up person-to-person interaction like a desert flower sucks up rain. As Dean is mulling over this, Cas gently disentangles himself from the fluffy blanket and Dean’s limbs. When Dean makes a noise of protest, Cas laughs.

“Hush. Do not fret, Dean. I am going to make you some chicken noodle soup. My cooking skills have improved a bit.” Dean grins back. Cas looks so damn proud of himself when he says that, pulling down a pot he’d borrowed from Dean, filling it with water from the tap and setting the stove burner to boil. Dean shuffles his feet under the blanket and scoots across the floor to be closer to the kitchen. Cas reprimands him— “Do not sit on the tiled floor, it is cold and we have just finished warming you up!” Dean sticks his tongue out playfully and laughs. This fussy side of Castiel is delightfully endearing. It makes Dean want to kiss him again.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says. “I’ve gotta tell you something. C’mere.” Cas does, brushing his hands off on the frilly apron he has found somewhere. It was most likely owned by a previous tenant. “Closer,” Dean says. “It’s a secret.”

“What is it, Dean?” Cas tilts his head down close to Dean’s. 

“This,” Dean says, cupping Castiel’s face and kissing him on the mouth. Cas’s eyes flutter closed and he smiles. Dean kisses him again, long and deep, before reluctantly letting go. “All right, go make your soup, buddy boy.” 

“It’s not for me, it’s for you, Dean. And since it is instant soup, it is nearly done!” Cas announces, his voice sending a rumble of hunger through Dean’s stomach. He rises with the blanket draped over his shoulders, and shuffles over to the chair Cas has pulled out for him. Then Cas pushes it back in and brings a bowl over to Dean, along with some saltine crackers that he crumbles and strews atop the concoction in the bowl. He sits next to Dean and holds up a finger when Dean tries to grab the spoon. “Ah ah ah, it is still hot,” Cas says. “I will blow on it to cool it down for you.” He scoops some noodles onto the spoon, his other hand cupped underneath it, and blows, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes. Dean sighs, his hunger getting stronger and not just in a food way. He shifts his legs, trying to cover up the bulge that has manifested itself in his pants. Cas doesn’t appear to notice, but then he leans forward with the spoon outstretched and Dean moves to sip the soup. As he does this, looking into Castiel’s cornflower blue eyes, Cas rests his other hand on Dean’s right knee. Dean swallows the chicken and closes his eyes briefly as the warmth and saltiness assuages some of his terrible hunger and thirst. Cas grins. “Is it satisfactory?” Dean nods fervently. “More?” Cas takes another spoonful and gives it to Dean, scooting his other hand slightly higher up on Dean’s thigh, gently massaging him. With each consecutive spoonful he moves closer, his chair and hand as well, until with one spoonful of soup left, Castiel’s hand is poised above the zipper on Dean’s pants and Dean has forgotten how to breathe. He has never felt so aroused in his life just by eating soup. Cas’s eyes hold him as he gulps the last few noodles and chicken chunks down. Then he wipes his mouth on his arm and reaches out to Cas, who comes in for a kiss even as he gently takes hold of Dean through his pants. Dean gasps into the mouth of Castiel, his lips salty and completely back to their original color now, as Cas pulls and strokes him, finally setting the almost painful buildup loose in a rush. Dean groans and relaxes completely, sagging back into his chair with a thump. Cas smiles and presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder before getting up and placing the soup bowl in the sink. 

Now that Dean’s core temperature has gone back to normal, he and Cas make it rise even higher by going into the bedroom and making love—using all of the proper protection, of course. Dean stays snuggled next to Cas in the semidarkness for a while afterwards, before deciding that he really should go do some Chemistry homework, not to mention Latin—Professor Crowley has the sinister habit of giving random pop quizzes on the second and third declensions—the ones Dean hates the most. He thanks Cas for the soup and the sex, then crawls quickly back through the window to his own warm room. Dean puts on a pair of thick woolen socks that his uncle Bobby had bought him and makes a mental note to talk to Benny about clubs and activities on campus before grabbing his Chemistry book and settling down at the kitchen table with the light shining above his head. Dean’s belly is full and warm from the soup, and his heart and head are likewise from Castiel’s attentions. He feels ready to take on the world.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel attempts to take Dean's advice and make a few friends.

***  
Not too long after the evening of the chicken soup, Cas is sitting under a tree on the quad with books spread around him. It is a deceivingly warm day, sunny and breezy, causing students to leave their rooms and flock outdoors to study or play Frisbee or something. The group of kids near Castiel have clearly chosen ‘or something’. They are throwing what looks like a lumpy softball to one another; all except for one boy, short and pudgy with feathery brown hair framing his face, who is using a tennis racquet to whack it. A tall broad-shouldered guy is really getting into the game, chucking the ball pretty hard, and flexing his muscles at every opportunity. Cas knows his type. He’s the show-offy jock who shoves kids into garbage cans and lockers just because he can… Unfortunately, the girls always seem to love guys like him. A slightly thinner young man with short blond hair is standing closer to Castiel’s tree, shouting encouragement to the shorter kid and a girl with shoulder-length auburn hair, whom Castiel has just noticed. She looks tough, and is hurling the ball with intense concentration. Apparently she got a little overexcited because the ball flies past the thin kid and lands right next to Castiel’s legs. He jerks back in surprise and the jock yells,

“What are you waiting for?! Throw it!” Cas picks up the ball gingerly. It looks to be made of some sort of leather, firm and smooth, like an unripe apple. The skinny kid gives him an encouraging smile as Castiel tries to remember if he’s ever thrown a baseball before. Sure, he watched a few games on TV with his Father when he was little, before his dad and mom got so wrapped up with their charities that they were gone all the time. “Any day now, runt! Hurry it up!” The jock guy’s voice booms, cutting off Cas’s thoughts. He squares his shoulders and brings his arm forward and upward to throw the ball to the thinner kid, who catches it and gives Castiel a thumbs-up.

“Nice throw,” He says cheerily.

“Thank you,” is Cas’ quiet reply.

“I’m Zeke, by the way,” The man adds, coming over and sticking out his hand.

“I’m Castiel,” he pronounces as they shake. The dark-haired jock yells out,

“Come on, Zeke, you can fraternize with the yokels after we’re done.”

“Yokels! That’s a big word for you, Michael!” The girl shouts back at him.

“Oh shut up, Anna, I learned it in literary class.”

“Oooh wow Michael’s so smart. He knows one big word, three cheers for Michael! He can call some random guy a yokel but doesn’t know the proper tense of ‘literature’!” the chubby boy says sardonically, his left eyebrow twitching.

“He doesn’t even LOOK like a yokel,” adds Anna. “He’s wearing a trench coat.” 

“A very NICE trench coat,” The short kid winks kiddingly at Castiel. “I don’t think you know what a yokel is, Michael.”

“Oh shut the hell up Gabriel, who asked you, huh? Can we just focus on the game here and play ball? I have only ten minutes before practice.”

“Always got to have a precise schedule, Mike. What’s that saying; you’ve got one life, so just live it?” Zeke says musingly, tossing the ball to Michael at last.

“I think it’s pronounced YOLO, Ezekiel,” Anna says in mock-seriousness.

“Hey now, I told you not to call me Ezekiel,” he shakes a finger at her. “It’s Zeke.” Anna rolls her eyes.

“Fine, ZEKE. That’s some deep shit you just stirred up.”

“Yeah, Zekester! What’s up with that?” Gabriel queried, his eyebrow going down and his racquet coming up.

Zeke rolls his eyes. “They’re always making fun of me,” he utters confidentially to Cas. “Just because sometimes I act like I actually have a brain. Unlike Gabe over there,” He nods at the pudgy guy who has just tried to smack a bug flying in front of his face with his racquet, and hit himself IN the face with it instead. Cas laughs, his eyes crinkling, and Zeke does too. His voice is sonorous and resonant, a little higher than Dean’s, somewhere between a baritone and a tenor. Gabe—Gabriel—and Anna are both rather short, but Ezekiel is like a reed, taller and thinner than Michael. Michael, who winds up and hits Gabriel right in the head with the leather ball, Gabe goes down; stumbling back in shock and pain, and Michael pumps his fist in victory. Castiel is enraged to see it. He has been bullied enough times to see what is going on here. Immediately he steps in front of Gabriel and faces Michael, seething.

“Whoo! Victory is mine! Did you see that, Zeke? Aha Gabe, you lose! You are a loser!”

“What do you think you are doing???” Castiel spits. “You just hurled a leather ball right at that man’s face! Do you not realize how much it must have hurt?” Anna is now helping Gabe stand up, shaking her head sympathetically at his already darkening right eye, the sight of which only makes Castiel angrier.

“Calm down, trench coat man. I didn’t do much of anything; slap some ice on his eye and the swelling will go away. I get injuries like that playing football all the time.”

“So what is it, no pain no gain?” Cas clenches his fists. “How about I throw something at you, and see if you can just forget about it.” Michael’s eyes narrow into slits.

“Go ahead and do it. You won’t dare.” They are standing chest to chest and are glaring into each other’s eyes when Zeke steps forward.

“Whoa there guys. Let’s take it down about three notches. Michael, that wasn’t cool dude. You didn’t have to bullseye your brother.”

Castiel looks from Gabriel back to Michael. “He is your brother?”

“Yeah, my baby brother. So I have a perfectly legitimate right to tease him, especially since he made that yokel crack. I totally know what yokels are.” He turns away from Castiel muttering. “Yokels are…they are…y’know what, I don’t really CARE! I’ve gotta go to practice now,” Michael says to Ezekiel. “Make sure my brother doesn’t do anything too stupid, will you?” Zeke nods solemnly.

“I will do my best to make sure he arrives home in one piece after Anna’s reckless driving.” Michael smirks and then whirls back to face Castiel, jabbing a finger the size of a giant link of homemade sausage in his face.

“You better think twice about jumpin’ into a family matter next time, runt. I’ll be seeing you around.” Then he stumps off with a bag of football equipment slung over his shoulder. Cas shuts his eyes in horror.

“I interrupted a family matter.”

“Don’t worry, none of the rest of us realized Gabe was Michael’s brother the first time either,” Zeke says. “We honestly thought he was joking, that it was one of Gabe’s stupid pranks when he told us, but it’s true. They are brothers.”

“I have never seen two siblings so unalike,” Castiel mutters, watching Gabriel do a stupid dance around Anna who is rolling her eyes and laughing.

“Yeah, don’t I know it. Gabe, how’re you feelin’ buddy?” Zeke asks as Gabriel and Anna come up to them.

“Just dandy, my life is a party, man. Even got this killer disco ball.” He points at his right eye, which is now starting to get seriously swollen. “If it doesn’t hurt, you aren’t having REAL fun.”

“I have some ice packs in my room,” Castiel offers. “If you would like to come I can also offer sustenance if that is satisfactory. All three of you are welcome.” Gabe, Zeke, and Anna just look at him for a minute. Cas feels his hands start to sweat. He wants to make friends, and this seems like the simplest way…it had worked with Dean. Why isn’t anyone saying anything? Finally Gabe shrugs and grins from ear to ear.

“Why not? Trench coat guy saved me from a bigger beating anyway.”

“Works for me too. Thanks, yokel.” Adds Anna, flipping her hair behind her ears and grinning at Cas to let him know that she’s teasing.

“His name is Castiel,” Zeke proclaims to the two of them. “Thank you, Castiel. That sounds wonderful.” Cas smiles slightly and gathers his books before leading the way off of the quad and across the street to his and Dean’s apartment building.


	10. Chapter 9

***  
Dean is concentrating so hard on Latin he feels like steam is coming out of his ears. He’s glanced at Cas’s window a few times with the thought of enlisting his helpful presence, but Castiel is not yet back from studying on the quad. And then all of a sudden there he is, and right behind him come people! Dean’s eyes widen as not one, but three real live human beings follow Cas into his room. They move heaps of clothes and books over to sit on the couch, or in the short pudgy guy’s case, he just kicks a mound of clothes into the basic shape of a chair and flops down on top of them. Dean raises his eyebrows as the tall blond one goes into the kitchen to help Castiel make…tea? Who in hell drinks tea? Maybe he’s British, Dean decides. Either that or a hippie. The girl with auburn hair is sprawled out on the couch like she owns it, flipping through channels on the tiny TV and chugging a bottle of Gatorade. Dean didn’t even know Cas DRANK Gatorade. He has decided not to knock on the door and make a fool of himself in front of Cas’s new friends, especially as the fat kid has just been thrown a bag of frozen peas to put on a huge lump that has manifested itself on the right side of his face. Jesus. Who DID that? It wouldn’t’ve been Cas, but maybe it was the tall blond guy…no because Castiel would never have allowed the person who hit someone else that hard in his door. It could’ve been the girl though, and if that happened, the fat kid had probably deserved it. Dean realizes he is being nosy and turns back to studying Latin. A short while later he hurls his flashcards across the room in frustration and starts yelling,

“FUCK THIS FUCK THAT SCREW YOU PROFESSOR CROWLEY I AM SICK OF YOUR SHIT I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS ABOUT THIS LANGUAGE I AM JUST TRYING TO PASS YOUR STUPID CLASS AND IT SHOULDN’T BE THIS GODDAMNED HARD!!! I AM NOT AIMING TO SELL MY SOUL FOR THIS SUBJECT WHAT THE HELL EVEN IS THIS?!” Chest heaving after his irate outburst, he looks over to see four faces pressed against Cas’s window with looks ranging from amusement to curiosity and concern. Oops. Dean grins sheepishly and gives a weak wave. Cas motions for Dean to open his window. Dean does, leaning out onto the roof with a sigh. There is some jostling from the other three people in Cas’s room before he can do the same. “Hey Cas,” Dean says.

“Hello, Dean. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sorry… well, that just happened.” He clenches his hands around the windowsill. “I’m just so done with this damn class that I lost my head for a second. But I’m fine.”

“Nice lungs you’ve got,” The shortest guy says cheerfully. “Nice guns, too.” Dean forgot he was wearing his old AC/DC shirt that he’d had since he was seventeen and it is pretty tight now.

“Shut up, Gabriel, and stop flirting with the man. I’m sure he’s already taken,” The auburn-haired girl says, nudging Gabriel’s arm. “Or if not, he will be soon. I’m Anna,” she purrs seductively at Dean. Cas clears his throat as Dean grins and gives her a wink.

“Hey there, Anna. I’m Dean Winchester. And you’re Gabriel, obviously,” he waves at the pudgy guy. “Who might you be?” Dean’s eyebrow rises at the tall thin boy who was helping Cas make tea.

“I’m Zeke. Nice to meet you,” He stretches a long arm around Anna and offers Dean his hand. Dean grunts with exertion as he crow-hops out onto the roof to shake it. 

“Likewise,” Dean says, sitting cross-legged on what he has designated the back porch. He spends too much time sitting or walking on it for it to be considered a roof anyway. He glances at Cas to make sure it’s okay for Dean to chat with him and his friends. But Castiel’s eyes are warm and bright and open; he is proud to have some friends to show off to Dean. It makes Dean smile before continuing: “So Cas, did you get any studying done?”

“A fair amount before Anna forcefully immersed me in their catch game.”

“Sorry,” Anna shrugs flippantly. “I got a little overexcited and almost whacked Castiel in the leg with our ball. No big deal.”

“Thank God he finally figured out how to throw it back to us, or Michael would’ve bashed his head in, I swear on my mom,” Gabe mutters.

“What, like he ended up doing to you anyway, Gabe?” Zeke laughs, reaching over to ruffle Gabriel’s fluffy brown hair. “Man, Castiel sure stood up to Michael though. It was beautiful.” Dean’s eyes have narrowed as Cas looks abashed.

“Who is this Michael guy? Do I need to beat the shit outta him?” Zeke chuckles.

“He’s Gabe’s brother, and no, Castiel almost had that taken care of already. I can see where he gets his fighting spirit, though.”

“What? Cas tried to beat somebody up? And I wasn’t called? Man, I hate Professor Crowley even MORE now!” Dean complains, but he’s beaming at Cas with both amazement and pride.

“I would not have beaten him up,” Castiel clarifies. “I was willing to throw one punch and walk away.” Anna lets out a snort of laughter.

“Buddy, I don’t think Michael would’ve just let you walk away that easily,” Zeke adds. Gabe grunts and nods in confirmation.

“You got that right. He may be my brother, but Michael can also be a great big bag of dicks. As this eye is my witness!” He adds in mock-seriousness. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll let you in on the action next time, tiger,” Anna says to Dean in the midst of everyone’s burst of laughter at Gabriel. “You can just give me your number and I’ll call,” she adds flirtily. Cas is still smiling, but his eyes have narrowed and Dean doesn’t want to be on the wrong side of that look—especially now that he knows Castiel nearly fought someone.

“I’ve got an idea, how ‘bout you give your number to Cas? You guys met him first, y’know, and I don’t wanna cross the line between friends.” Anna looks slightly put out by this, but that doesn’t bother Dean too much when he glances over at Cas, who is glowing now because he knows that Dean is his. The light of the sun is hitting his face at just the right angle, too, and Dean can feel himself getting short of breath at just how gorgeous Castiel looks. He remembers there are other people around and that he’s not one of the protagonists in a gooey romantic comedy just in time to stop himself from flying at Cas and kissing him breathless. Instead Dean blinks and licks his lips before clearing his throat, getting a sly grin from Gabriel and Gabe in turn gets a nudge from Zeke like “shut up”. Dean decides to close himself off a bit. He just met these people, after all, and there’s no point in giving away ALL of one’s secrets at the get-go. Luckily for Dean, his guardedness comes in the form of guileless charm. Dean cracks a few jokes and is about to duck back into his room to pick up on Latin, but suddenly he finds himself in Cas’s room instead, manning the portable boom-box as Anna and Gabriel shout out song requests. 

Gabe is un-ironically into the 90s. At least Dean thinks he’s being genuine, but it’s hard for him to get a read on funny feisty Gabriel. Anna really likes sexy songs, you know, the ones certain girls enjoy bumping and grinding to. Dean appreciates her moves. Maybe he admires them a little bit too much because Zeke glances at Castiel and hurriedly suggests something more “classic”.

“You don’t mean Mozart,” Dean blurts, horrified. “Please tell me you’re not like my brother Sammy with the whole ‘classical music makes you smarter’ crap. Don’t say that to me.” Zeke grins sheepishly.

“Well, I do enjoy Beethoven and Tchaikovsky from time to time, but no, I was thinking something by Frank Sinatra, actually. Maybe the Four Tops or the Temptations. 50s and 60s stuff.”

“All right, but after that I get ‘House of the Rising Sun’” interjects Dean. “Whatchu wanna hear, Cas?” he calls.

“Anything you like, Dean. I enjoy your taste in music,” Cas shouts back.

“I bet that’s not all he enjoys the taste of,” Gabe quips slyly. Zeke shoots him a look. “…I’m speaking, of course, about the taste of tea. Dear Ezekiel has introduced Castiel to the wonders of a cuppa tea,” he adds quickly in a TERRIBLE British accent. Zeke sighs ruefully at the teasing he endures from Gabriel.

“Balthazar, the TA for one of my literature classes, got me to try it. I am now unashamedly addicted. And yes, he’s a British exchange student, not like that means anything, Gabe.”

“Whatever, man,” Gabe rolls his eyes. “I know you always go to that tea shop of yours after your lit class every Wednesday.” Dean snorts derisively. 

“Okay, if it floats your boat, Zeke. The only time I’ve tasted tea it was like rancid piss.” He expects the guy to get offended; Dean HAS been kind of on his case, but Zeke just smiles.

“I’ll have to drag you there sometime, Dean; you won’t be disappointed.”

“May I come too?” Cas asks shyly, sitting cross-legged on the carpet between them while holding out a bowl of nachos to Dean. The earnest way he does it makes Dean’s heart melt and provokes a burst from Ezekiel:

“Of course, Castiel. I wouldn’t dream of not inviting you!” 

Castiel smiles gratefully at this comment and Dean finds himself warming up to this guy. Maybe it’s because he reminds him of Sammy—they would probably end up becoming friends. But mostly it’s for the way he seems to understand Castiel, registering his moods and subtle facial expressions and knowing exactly what to say in response. Dean wishes he had that sort of knack; it would’ve saved him from freezing his butt off on that chicken soup evening. With a light nudge to Cas’s knee, Dean gets his attention and mouths, “I’ve got homework” before grabbing a messy handful of nachos and stuffing them into his mouth. Cas nods and his eyes reply “I’m definitely coming over later”.

“Well it was nice meeting you all, but I’ve got some more Latin work to do, which was prob’ly clear from my first impression.” Dean laughs sheepishly and runs his hand through his hair. “Bye Gabe, take care of that eye, man. Anna—it was a pleasure,” kissing her hand and making her giggle—which she will later deny and scoff about when teased about it by Gabriel—and Dean shakes hands with Zeke. “I may actually take that offer about goin’ with ya to the tea shop.”

“Good, I’m glad. It was a real pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

“Thanks. Same here. I’m sure I’ll see you guys again soon. And I’ll see you later, Cas,” Dean says, hopping up onto the windowsill and across his roof.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation to a party, tea, and a phone call for Dean

***  
Inviting Gabriel, Ezekiel, Anna, and Michael over for dinner is Cas’s idea. Dean isn’t sure it’s a good idea allowing Michael to come along…although he is sure he can handle the guy if things get ugly. From anecdotes he’s picked up over the past week, Michael is a real stand-up guy on the football field, but when in regular society he turns into a psychopath, at least according to Gabe. But Cas is all for giving people second chances—as Dean very well knows—and he can’t let Cas do all the cooking alone, as that would be a recipe for disaster (pardon the pun). It’s not just because he wants to spend time with Cas either… that isn’t it at all. Their classes have been getting busier, though, with a lot of late nights in the Chemistry lab for Dean and unum paper-pounding parties for Castiel, which gives them less free time to spend with one another. Dean did take Zeke’s offer of getting tea with him and Cas this Wednesday, and Dean had met the irrepressible Balthazar.

“Cheers, Ezekiel! You never disappoint me! Knew you’d be coming in right about now. Ah, and you have some handsome men with you. Most excellent.” A scruffy boyish smiling man with a British accent, he gives his cap a little twist and continues mixing machiattos. 

“I thought you liked being called Zeke,” Dean mutters. Zeke coughs and rubs his neck uncomfortably.

“I told Balthazar that once, and he said ‘I’m calling you Ezekiel and that’s the end of it’. He has this way of getting what he wants. Kind of amazing.” Or a bit unnerving, Dean thinks as he watches Balthazar talk to (and flirt with) his fellow employees and customers alike. He seems a bit smarmy to Dean, but Cas’s eyes are following him with interest. All of a sudden Balthazar kisses his female coworker on the cheek, leaps across the counter, and jogs over to Zeke with a cardboard cup in his right hand.

“Here is your usual, piping hot. And we have newcomers today! Excellent! Are these friends of yours, Ezekiel?”

“Yes, this is Castiel, and this is Dean.”

“Pleasure, pleasure. Now, what can I get for you two?”

“Uh…”

“Dean isn’t into tea,” Zeke begins explaining. “But I’ve already introduced it to Castiel.”

“I will take an Earl Grey with two scoops of honey, Mr. Balthazar,” Cas says quietly. Balthazar turns his blinding grin from Zeke to Cas.

“Most excellent! I will have Naomi get it for you right away. Naomi! A cuppa Grey for this dapper gentleman!” he yells to the girl he kissed on the cheek a minute earlier. She replies with a wave. “And you, sweetheart?” Balthazar looks at Dean. “Seen anything that catches your eye?” Dean mulls over the menu. He clears his throat. As long as he doesn’t call my choice ‘excellent’ I’m good, Dean thinks. And refrains from referring to me as his sweetheart again.

“I don’t drink tea, like Zeke said. It seems like a fancy drink, and that’s not really my style.” Dean thinks he spots a smile from Castiel at this.

“Hmm…are you a risk taker, Dean?” The way the guy says this pulls Dean up short. He remembers hearing that Balthazar is an assistant teacher, so he figures this is some sort of test to punk out the un-‘tea’ried junior in college, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Yeah, sometimes I am…except when I’m not.”

“Oho! A riddler! Ezekiel, you didn’t tell me your friends were such fun!” Balthazar grins broadly at Dean. “Let me rephrase the question: are you willing to send your taste buds on an experience of orgasmic joy? Do you wish to be taken through the layers of a dying star, into a black hole, and emerge unscathed? Are you willing to let the beating of your heart, the pounding in your loins, define you more than the power of your mind for a minute, nay—a second—and remember it for a lifetime? Are you ready for the tea to change you?” His eyes are bright and he is short of breath when he stops and leans back to gauge Dean’s reaction.

“That…was pretty intense, Balthazar. You must either REALLY like your tea, or the drug market is fanTAstic at this school! What do you think, Cas?”

“That was amazing,” Castiel breathes, his eyes alight. “Are you a writer, Mr. Balthazar?”

“I am flattered, but sadly no. My thoughts come out in bursts of passion but I am afraid I could not sit still long enough to do any writing.”

“I bet. You’re like Tigger on steroids.” Dean mutters. Balthazar raises his index finger in the air and shakes it at him.

“Ah yes, but do tell me, Dean, when you hold that first sip of tea on your tongue and you feel invincible, as if you are alone against the might of the world—the galaxy—the entire UNIVERSE…and that cup of tea in your hand has given that sensation to you; only then will I accept your title of steroidal Tigger.” He winks. “And now, I believe I know just the tea for you.” He walks away with a swing in his step and a twinkle in his eye. Uh-oh.

“I probably shouldn’t’ve done that,” Dean whispers.

“No you should not. It was rather rude,” interjects Castiel sternly. Dean is startled.

“Nah, I didn’t mean that exactly, but…yeah, I guess it was rude. Sorry Zeke, for taunting your British friend.” Zeke shrugs his shoulders and sighs, his loose frame collapsing at last into a chair.

“Believe me, Dean, sometimes it’s a struggle to deal with Balthazar and his wild imagination. I completely understand where you’re coming from. But it wouldn’t hurt to be civil next time.” Dean blows out a breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll apologize when he brings my ‘orgasmic’ tea to me.” Just then, the first notes of Ozzie Osbourne’s ‘Crazy Train’ belt out of Dean’s cellphone. “’Scuse me for a minute,” he says, taking the phone out of his pants and moving to the tea shop’s back corner. It’s rare for his uncle Bobby to call, but that is definitely his phone number. “Bobby, what’s the matter? Is everything all right? How’s Sam?” There is a slight pause before a gruff voice answers him,

“Well hello to you too, sunshine. Can’t a guy just call to have a normal conversation? Your brother’s fine,” He answers Dean’s anxious query. “Growin’ like a weed and rackin’ up A’s in those AP classes of his, as well as a class A Attitude, from what I’ve heard.” Dean can’t help but grin at the mention of his rebellious little brother.

“How’re you doing, then? The car still running fine?”

“I’m good. ‘Course the car’s runnin’. You wouldn’t expect me to forget that Impala, would ya? In fact, she’s goin’ so smooth I was thinking of heading down your way the end of this week. How’s that sound to you?” For a minute Dean can’t speak because of the smile tugging at his mouth.

“Yeah, Bobby, that’d be great. When are you planning on driving in?”

“Uh I’m thinking late Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. Expect a loud knock on your door.” He grunts and continues, “There any good beer or barbecue places around your school?” Dean snorts.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to find something for you, Bobby. And thanks.”

“You’re fucking welcome. I’ll see ya soon, Dean.”

“Yeah all right. Drive safe. I’ll see you.” After he hangs up, Dean heads back to the table with a spring in his step. Cas can tell something good has happened, and is about to ask Dean for details, when Balthazar returns with a jug of cream, a cup of honey, and a pot of tea.

“Fresh from the stovetop,” Balthazar announces, “I bring you Memories of Prague. Apply cream and honey liberally, Dean. And remember, babe, it’s hot.” He winks and places an enormous gingersnap cookie in front of Dean and Cas. “A gift for first-timers to the tea house. Enjoy.” He waves to Zeke and walks away, leaving Dean to grab the cookie and Cas to purse his lips and blow on Dean’s tea. After he mixes in cream and a spoonful of honey, Dean takes his first sip of Memories of Prague… and he wouldn’t admit it for the world, but Dean Winchester CAN feel a bubble of power rise inside him—either that or it’s a gigantic belch waiting to burst. Either way, the tea isn’t half bad.

“So Dean,” Cas says as he daintily breaks off a piece of the cookie and wipes his hands on a napkin to dispel the crumbs, “What was that phone call about? You seemed excited after the conclusion of it.” Dean smiles, cookie crumbs all over his face, and Castiel shakes his head fondly at this messy boy that he calls his own.

“My uncle Bobby’s been workin’ on my dad’s old car, a ’67 Chevy Impala, and she’s just about better. He was thinking of driving down here this weekend for a visit. I’d, uh, like you to meet him—if you want to, that is.”

“That’s wonderful, Dean! Of course I’d enjoy meeting him. It will be good to put a face to the name in all those stories you tell.” Cas grips Dean’s arm and Dean covers Castiel’s hand with his own before even thinking about it. With a shift and a grunt, Dean looks over at Zeke. Cas does too, and notices his friend’s subdued demeanor. They had nearly forgotten he was there, he who had brought them to this place and introduced them to Balthazar. Cas feels terrible until Dean speaks up.

“Of course, you’ll hafta meet him too, Zeke. You and Gabe and Anna and even Michael; we’ve still gotta cook you guys dinner on Friday, remember?” A small smile brightens Zeke’s eyes. He’d assumed Dean had forgotten their dinner plans in the excitement of a visit from his family; but for him to not only remember previously made plans with his friends, but invite them to meet said family…well, Ezekiel is very touched.

“Thank you, Dean. I am honored. I’ll tell the others about our plans for dinner. Would the two of you like us to bring a dish?” Dean looks over at Cas and smiles.

“Well, if you wanna bring dessert, there’s always space for that—especially pie. Other than that, just your sexy selves will be great.” Cas nudges Dean in the ribs and Dean grins back playfully. Zeke smiles at their teasingly jealous banter.

“All right. We’re set for Friday night, then? When would you like us over? Seven?”

“Either that, or we start at 6 or 6:30 because I know Gabriel likes to get the party started early, right?” Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Gabe will show up even earlier than that if you let him. I know Michael will want to shower after his football practice though, so we may be coming in shifts.” Dean shrugs and Cas smiles.

“Okay by me.”

“Yes, and I am still learning to cook, so dinner may occur later than it is expected,” Castiel adds.

“Nah, man, you’re gonna do fine.” Dean squeezes his arm. “I have faith in you.” The adoring gaze Castiel trains on Dean makes Ezekiel smile. He’d love to someday have a relationship like theirs. All one needs is faith and trust…‘But I’m here gathering non-pixie dust’. Zeke shakes his head and stands. No, not really, he realizes, as Dean and Cas rise up beside him and Balthazar returns to interrogate Dean about his impression of the tea and clap Zeke on the shoulder. He’s gleaming again with these guys, and Gabriel and Michael and Anna. It’s good to have friends.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sam-tacular surprise for Dean ;-P

***  
Dean is cleaning the apartment and rearranging his CDs, putting the most often requested songs on top, as well as a few of his own personal favorites. Nobody is gonna escape his place tonight without listening to the Best of Bon Jovi.

“Hey Cas,” he calls out. “You done listening to my Rolling Stones CD yet?” Castiel pokes his head through the open window with a bag of cooking gear.

“I will never truly be finished,” he says seriously. “The Stones have changed my life, as have you. I now have ‘Sympathy for the Devil’.” Dean freezes in shock with his hand on a CD case. That wasn’t QUITE what he’d meant…but then he sees Cas’s eyes twinkling merrily, and busts out laughing. 

“Cas, you sassy bastard, c’mere.” Cas does, and Dean kisses him on the nose and then the mouth, chastely at first, but then his hands pull Cas forward, and he isn’t so gentle. Castiel doesn’t mind; he sags into Dean’s kiss, his arms wrapping around Dean’s waist and his hands clasping so as not to drop the cooking supplies. They will be baking chicken fajitas because no one has a grill. At least, they will be soon if Dean doesn’t start something else…

“Dean,” Cas breathes into his neck, “It’s 4:30pm. I must begin cooking.”

“Not yet,” Dean growls. “You’ve gotta return my CD first.” Cas laughs.

“And if I don’t wish to part with it?”

“Well, then I’ll just have to make you.” Dean kisses him fiercely and without pause, making Castiel crumple backwards to the floor, and then Dean begins to tickle him.

“No—no please, hahaha, stop it, Dean!” Cas gasps in spurts and snorts, giggles erupting from him. “All right, you win, I’ll get it now! Let go, please!” Dean presses a kiss to the back of Cas’s neck as he twists away and heads back to the window.

“Hurry back over,” Dean murmurs into his dark curls. “I’ll be waiting for you impatiently.” Castiel shivers in delight.

“Take the supplies to the kitchen, and I shall return before you are finished putting them away.” Castiel replies mischievously. He knows Dean’s habit of putting things away, even if they are about to start using them. It’s a cleaning habit. Dean rolls his eyes at what Castiel is implying.

“If you think I’M a controlling neat freak, you should meet Sammy,” he calls as Castiel leaps lightly through the window. “He lists what he has to do every hour of the day, when he wakes up in the morning, how long he has to study, when he has to pee…” Dean is only slightly exaggerating. He’s often teased Sam to just let it go and have some fun; his younger brother tends to take life too seriously. As Dean gathers up the plastic baggie from the floor and dumps it on the counter, there is a loud knock on the door. Dean is puzzled. Who’d be here this early? He’d told Gabriel 5:30 at the EARLIEST, because he knew he’d never get anything done once Gabe started to party. So who was this? 

Wiping his hands and vaulting over the couch, Dean attempts to flatten his hair and straighten out his shirt. He hasn’t even changed; whoever it is, he hopes it isn’t important for him to look his best. Dean pulls open the door to see a tall young man with long shaggy brown hair, wearing an indigo shirt with a picture of a dog in the center. His eyes light up when the door opens.

“Dean!” he says, leaping forward to grab the other man in a hug.

“Sammy?!” Dean is speechless and Sam laughs as he grips his big brother tight. Dean’s arms come up to hug his baby brother back. Yes, it really is him—he still has that ridiculous hair—and he’s TALLER than Dean now. 

Dean clears his throat and holds Sam back at arm’s length for a second. “Man, it’s good to see you! What are you doing here?”

“Well, Bobby called me up yesterday afternoon and said, ‘You got any big tests Friday or Monday? Any AP exams?’ I said no, why? And he told me he’d fixed up the Impala and was coming to visit you. Asked if I wanted to come along for the ride.” Sam starts to grin. “I was like absolutely, can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel again, old man. And he goes, ‘Lord, boy that was ONE TIME!’” Sammy starts laughing uncontrollably, and those perfect white teeth and puppy-dog eyes of his have Dean sniggering too.

“Where IS Bobby, anyway? I figured he’d be up here banging down my door!”

“He’s trying to find some good parking. Doesn’t want the Impala to get scratched up by damn college kids, he says.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I swear, the way you two are about that car, I’ll be surprised if either of you ever get a spouse.” Dean punches his arm. “So, Dean, are you gonna invite me in?”

“Yeah, man, get in here.” Dean steps aside and waves his brother inside before he shuts the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Abode? Nice word. Liking the sound system,” Sam whistles appreciatively. “And you keep it really clean—you got a maid, Dean?” He kids, knowing Dean wouldn’t let anybody else do a cleaning job that he could do himself. Thus Sam is duly surprised when Dean answers with,

“Nah, but I’ve got something close. Hey Cas!” He yells through the open window. “Get back in here and meet my little brother! Sam, this is Castiel.” Sam’s eyes widen as the other man comes in through the window, crouched over, wearing his trench coat, a suit jacket, and clutching a Rolling Stones CD that he hands to Dean. When he straightens up and smooths his tie, coming over to Sam with a shy smile, Sam remembers the name Castiel—Dean had said it before. His buddy Cas had helped him get through the anniversary of their mother’s death. Sam smiles warmly with his eyes alight and sticks out his hand for Cas to shake.

“Hey, Castiel. I’m Sam Winchester. It’s an honor to meet you.” Cas latches onto Sam’s hand firmly.

“It is an honor for me as well. I have heard a lot about you.” The way he says this, with a sideways glance at Dean, who is staring fixedly at the floor, puts a bit of a lump in Sam’s throat. He’d thought about his big brother constantly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest that couldn’t be filled without Dean because he missed him so much, and it is obvious in this moment that Dean had felt the same way.

“Thank you. Same here.” Sam clears his throat and focuses on the contents of the kitchen, and the room at large, more closely. “What’s going on? Were you planning on having company tonight, Dean?”

“Still astute as ever, Sammy. Yeah, Cas and I invited some friends over for chicken fajitas. We’ve got a ton, so you and Bobby are definitely comin’.” He says this flatly. Then to Cas: “Maybe you should call Zeke and let him know my family’s already here. Gabe’ll be happy, anyway—big parties are his kind of parties; or so he told me.” Cas nods at Dean and waves to Sam.

“Excuse me,” He says quietly, and goes down the hall to make the phone call to Zeke. Sam looks over at Dean as Cas stands just outside the bedroom to give the brothers some privacy.

“I like him,” Sam says matter-of-factly. “He seems like a comfortable presence, safe, reassuring. He’s a good choice, Dean.”

“A good choice for what?” Dean looks up quickly, and Sam is startled.

“For a friend, of course. You guys hang out a lot, right?” Dean relaxes.

“Oh yeah, yeah we do. I met Cas the day I moved in. He’s a good guy. We ate pecan pie together.” Sam whistles and widens his eyes comically. 

“WOW, Dean, he must be REALLY special for you to share your pie with him!” Dean shoves him playfully.

“Shut up, Sammy.” Sam stumbles slightly and clips his calf on the edge of the couch.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Just then there’s another loud knock on the door, and since Dean hadn’t closed it all the way, it swings inward and a gruff voice yells,

“Well I guess that means I can come in?”

“Hey, Bobby! Yeah, come on in.” Dean jumps over the couch and grips Bobby’s hand before getting crushed in a hard hug.

“I’ve missed you, kid,” Bobby says. “How’s this college thing going? Are you getting good grades? Any dumbass professors I need to shoot for ya?” Dean grins.

“Tempting, but no. Professor Crowley is trying to steal my soul with Latin declensions, but Chemistry, Constitutional Law, and Business Management are going fine. And Latin isn’t TOO bad with Castiel here helping me.” Cas has just returned from the hallway. Bobby looks him over suspiciously. Cas glances uneasily at Dean before clearing his throat and moving to shake Bobby’s hand. “Cas, this is my surrogate uncle, Bobby Singer.” Dean says, trying not to grin. He knows Bobby’s tactics of sizing a person up. It can be a bit intimidating. Castiel takes a breath and puts his shoulders back, meeting Bobby’s deluxe squinty stare head-on with an intense gaze of his own.

“Hello, Mr. Singer. I am Castiel. It is nice to meet you.” Dean almost cheers.

“Likewise,” Bobby grunts, looking over Cas’s attire. “That’s a helluva jacket you’ve got there, plenty of pockets to keep supplies in case of…anything.”

“Bobby,” Sam rolls his eyes heavenward as Castiel looks bemused. “Don’t do that to him. You’ve only just met; tone down the cryptic warnings.”

“What?” Bobby widens his eyes and attempts to look innocent. “It’s just an observation.” Dean chuckles and Sam reassures Castiel, who looks a bit worried, that this is their uncle’s normal brand of nuts. Bobby huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, just pick on the old guy, you idjits. Are there any good places to get booze around here, Dean?”

“Yeah, Bobby, I’ll go downtown in the Impala with you. Gotta see my baby! You guys good; Cas, Sammy?” They both nod. “All right. Cas, give Sam directions to cook the fajitas and he’ll do whatever you say. The kid loves directions.” He laughs as Sam scowls at him; it’s the return of the bitch-face and Dean couldn’t be happier to cause it. “See you in a bit!” He grabs a clean shirt and his leather jacket before quickly following Bobby down the stairs.


	13. Chapter 12

***  
Castiel thinks he can do this. At least, he knows he can give cooking directions better than he can actually cook. Leave the baking of chicken and tortillas in Sam’s capable hands and dinner will be delicious.

“C’mon, I’m sure your cooking isn’t THAT bad, Cas,” Sam says cheerfully, mixing tortilla dough in a glass bowl. Cas smiles at Sam’s use of his nickname. He didn’t think he’d like it from anyone but Dean, but Sam’s voice has a steady peaceful quality; his kindness and candor are reassuring; and he’s well on the way to becoming Castiel’s friend.

“Well, I did once make Dean a bowl of chicken soup,” Castiel amends, a secret smile playing at the corners of his lips as he remembers that day. “It was terribly cold that evening, and my trench coat had been caught under the windowsill, so your brother spent ten minutes fighting with the elements and the wooden window ledge to free me with the aid of a knife and a spatula.” Sam rolls his eyes.

“Yeah that sounds like Dean. Won’t ask anyone for help if he doesn’t need it…and even if he DOES need it, he’s sure he can do the job all by himself.” Cas laughs.

“That is true. I have noticed such things about your brother.” As with his constant care for and worry about you, Cas adds the second sentence silently. Sam slows his stirring and looks up at Castiel hesitantly from behind the curtain of his long brown hair. There is naked concern clear in his eyes.

“How’s he doing? I mean, I know he’s having trouble with Latin class, but is everything else okay?” 

Cas hems, thinking about how to answer. These brothers are so protective of each other; he thinks of Dean on the night of November 2nd, crying because he couldn’t comfort Sam, and now here Sam is, just as worried about Dean. It makes Cas wish he had a brother—not a snooty bullying one like Michael, but the good kind, like a Winchester.

“Yes, I believe so. He becomes frustrated rather easily at times, especially with subjects that he does not agree with; he is also a bit of a neat-freak.” Castiel looks uncomfortable. “I should probably not be telling you any of this, Dean will kill me.” Sam laughs.

“No, he won’t. I can tell he really likes you. Plus, I’ve gotta have SOMETHING to rag him about. He’s my big brother so it’s always been his job to torment me; it’ll be good for me to have some way to kid him back.”

“Torment you? From the things he said about your childhood, I thought that he protected you.” Sam stops stirring the dough completely, and Cas freezes. He really should not have said that. It is none of his business, and he doesn’t want Sam to think him low enough to pry. Sam doesn’t seem angry, however, just deep in thought. He pulls out Dean’s cutting board and sprinkles flour across it before taking the dough and kneading it into a ball, his bronzed knuckles standing out starkly against the pale hunk of bread.

“‘Torment’ isn’t the right word. ‘Tease’ might be better, because he has protected me. He kept me in the dark as long as he could about Mom’s death so I could stay a kid.” Sam’s face is so solemn; Castiel can hardly believe that he is only sixteen. “But you can’t hide behind your innocence forever, and I was a curious child. Still am, if truth be told. I was similar to Scout Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird, and Dean was like Jem. The biggest difference was that our father is nowhere near as wonderful and understanding as Atticus.” Sam’s voice has turned hard. He blinks and clears his throat when Castiel glances at him curiously. “Let’s just say I have… difficulties with my father, but that’s something to talk about another day. Anyway, Dean was the one who told me about how Mom died in the fire. It was called a tragic accident because no one knew exactly how it started, and Dad wasn’t able to get her out. Even the firemen couldn’t rescue… The only thing they could find was…” Sam swallows hard. “…a piece of the ceiling of my nursery, where—where she’d been. Dean told you I was a baby when she died, right?” Castiel nods. “Well, the ceiling was completely scorched except for an outline of her body. So that’s what was put in the coffin at her funeral. Dean told me that there had been pictures of her around, but I never saw them because Dad took them off the walls and put them in boxes in the attic. He didn’t want to be reminded of her, but Dean and I snuck up there when I was five and he was nine; he wanted me to see a picture of her, because he said…” Sam smiles slightly, tears gleaming in his eyes. “He always told me,   
‘I can’t describe her, Sammy; she was too wonderful and beautiful for me to do her justice.’ Giving her justice was what he called it whenever he told me stories about her. What he remembered—and I loved hearing them. When I was a little older I also got angry because he remembered Mom and I didn’t. But I remember the first time I asked Dad for a story…” His voice trails off in a whoosh as he grabs Dean’s mini rolling-pin from atop the fridge. Castiel takes the glass bowl and rinses it out as Sam rubs flour up and down the length of the rolling pin before he continues. “I was six or seven and had just been tucked into bed. Dad bent down to say   
‘Night, Sammy’ the way he always did, and I asked   
‘Daddy, can you tell me a story about Mom?’ and he froze.   
‘Why do you want to hear a story about your mother?’ he said all quiet and cold and firm, and I should’ve shut up then, but I said,   
‘Ask Dean. He tells me stories about her all the time.’ He just stood there silently and I said ‘Don’t you remember her, Daddy? It’s okay if you don’t, you can talk to Dean. He remembers her, he told me.’ Dad stood there with his face all screwed up and I thought he was going to shout at me or maybe start to cry but he just said   
‘Go to sleep, Sammy’ and a little while later I heard him yelling at Dean…” Sam’s voice trails off again. It is thick and choked with tears as he presses hard on the dough and rolls it across the cutting board, his shoulders bunched in knots and his teeth clenched in anger. “He couldn’t believe Dean had told me about her. ‘What gave you the right?!’ Dad said. Like it wasn’t allowed for Dean to talk to me and answer my questions.   
‘Because YOU haven’t told him, Dad. He’s a smart kid, always asking questions. I couldn’t just lie to him!’ Dad got so loud, saying it wasn’t Dean’s responsibility, HE was the father, the head of the household, remember? And Dean said, ‘Well then you should act like it, Dad! You told me to watch out for Sammy. And that’s what I’m trying to do by cooking him food and teaching him things and answering his questions with the truth. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do when you said it?’ And he was crying, and I heard a loud smack and then the door slammed…” Sam slams the rolling pin down and clenches it in his hands, flour spraying all over the floor. “I was lying there paralyzed in the dark, scared out of my mind for Dean and HATING my father for hitting him. That was the first time I’d ever heard my brother cry. I got up a minute later and took my blanket out to him to make him feel better. He looked at me with tears dripping off of the end of his nose and said,   
‘Thanks Sammy. But you need to go back to sleep, and the floor’s cold out here. C’mon.’ He never stopped looking out for me. Even in the worst times, like that night, or when I got older and started having shouting fights with Dad—which happened all through middle school—Dean would calm me down and get me food or take me for a walk or drive me to the library or bookstore in his car; he’d stay there with me even though he couldn’t care less about books and we never had enough money to buy any. He’s the best big brother I could ever ask for, and I’ve missed him so much.” Sam wipes his nose on his sleeve and finishes rolling out the tortillas, cutting them apart with cooking scissors before spraying a pan with butter and placing the first tortilla in it before turning on the burner. “But it’s good he’s doing well here with you. I’m glad he has someone to look out for him for once.”

“I am privileged to be that person. Dean is very special, and I am so glad that I live in the apartment next to him. We have nearly conjoining roofs, you know.” Castiel motions Sam over to the window and points out Dean’s ‘back porch’ roof and Sammy can see the messiness of Castiel’s apartment beyond it. He laughs as Cas shows how Dean leaps out of his window and into Cas’s room, and it makes him happy to see how much fun Dean and Cas obviously have together. And there is something a little more—Castiel’s face becomes softer when he talks about Dean, his eyes brighten, and a tiny smile curls the corners of his mouth. Sam has only seen this kind of expression on the faces of people in love, and his stomach twinges as he wonders worriedly if his big brother feels the same way. Would Dean be grossed out by Castiel’s great affection? Sam might have to talk to him about this. Cas is a great guy, Sam can tell from just forty minutes of talking to him. He’s got a clever head on his shoulders and an enormous heart in his chest. Add that to the fact that he is obviously smitten with Sam’s older brother and watches out for him daily. “We eat snacks together because Dean has no time to get lunch between Business Management and Latin,” he says, and “I have suggested walking around campus together many a time so that he is able to clear his head,” etc. 

“I’m glad he’s got you looking out for him, Cas.” Sam says seriously. “Dean is always trying to look out for EVERYBODY else.”

“That is what makes him at once so special and so vulnerable, because he does not look out for Dean.” Cas says. “But—enough about Dean for now; we must cut the vegetables for the fajitas whilst the chicken is cooking.” They have placed the chicken breasts in the oven and Sam is now flipping the tortillas like a pro. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

So Sam does. While Cas chops up tomatoes and peppers and olives, he learns a bit more about the younger Winchester brother. Sam is working hard in high school, taking US History and Government classes because he thinks he wants to be a lawyer… “And NOT the bad kind, either. I want to be someone who helps people that have nothing going for them and nowhere to turn, who just need a hand to get restitution for an injury or absolved of a crime they didn’t commit. I really like people,” Sam says. “I try to empathize with everyone and make an emotional connection even if I only talk to them one time—I want them to know that I’ve heard what they’ve said and really listened.” He really enjoys his AP Psychology class too, though his teacher is an oddball. “It’s psychology, though, so what do you expect?” He tried out for the track team and made it in as a cross-country runner. He met his girlfriend, Jessica Moore, while he was studying for a Psych test on the track next to the practice football field. Apparently Michael isn’t the only football-playing jerk in the world, because “I was really intent on my work, and the quarterback was apparently betting that he could hit me in the face with the ball and knock me over. It wouldn’t be too hard for him because I’m such a moose, all of the other kids said.” Sam shrugs good-naturedly. “But Jess was backbending or whatever the fuck cheerleaders do nearby and apparently heard what was happening. She told me later—because I wasn’t paying attention to anything but my notes at that point—that she went over and said   
‘Hey, cut it out! I know you love showing off your talents but that poor kid is studying hard. What’s that matter to you?’   
‘Well he’s a nerd,’ the football player said.   
‘Why do you care about the fact that he’s a nerd?’   
‘Why do YOU?’ he shot back at her.   
‘Because I think he’s cute’ she said.” Sam grins and blushes deep red as he relates this. 

“Really? Hot damn, she was flirting with you or about you, or…” Cas stops talking in embarrassment. How does Dean do this sort of thing? Sam gets the sentiment, though, and smiles at him.

“Yeah, I guess she was. But the quarterback, a vintage asshole, was just like   
‘Well I can give you twice what he has, baby’ And she stood there, a hand on her hip, and snorted.   
‘Really? I doubt it.’ So he chucked the ball at my head and Jess just reached out and CAUGHT it. I’d looked up by then because there was some shouting. ‘You really need to up your game, buddy boy,’ Jess said to the stunned guy, ramming the ball back into his gut before coming over to kneel next to me and going ‘Hey I don’t think this is the best place to study. Why don’t we get out of here?’ I just looked at her, smiling at me with those gorgeous brown eyes and that curly blonde hair and I said, um don’t you need to practice your cheering? And she said ‘I can take a break, besides, I think I’d be a better player, don’t you?’ and I said, Yeah, for sure. She busted out laughing at me. I’d never met anyone like her, so assertive and with a fiery spark. She was totally fishing for a compliment so I gave her one; and in return she bought me a milkshake from Cookout.” He sighs and his eyes go soft and huge with puppy-dog love. “It was great.” Castiel knows what it’s like to be like that, so utterly happy just to sit beside a person and study Latin, or cook lasagna, or watch the Bourne trilogy…or in Sam’s case, study Psychology, nearly get brained with a football, and drink milkshakes. 

“I am happy for you,” Cas says sincerely as he checks on the chicken. It’s looking good. “I hope Dean and your uncle return soon; it is almost time for our guests to arrive.” Right on cue, as if they’d rehearsed it, a loud pounding comes from the door and a faux deep voice booms,

“Hey Dean-o! Open up!”


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a house partayyyy

***  
“That will be Gabriel,” Castiel murmurs to Sam, who is staring, a bit shocked, in the door’s direction. “The door is open; do come in!” he calls out. The door bangs open and Gabe enters with a flourish of his shiny shirt and bell-bottomed pants.

“What’s up, Cassy?” he shouts. “The party is HERE!!!” He brings a six pack of root beer and an enormous bag of balloons. “Too bad I don’t have my disco ball anymore,” he gestures to his eye, “but Michael says he won’t touch it up for me. Where’s a good big bro when you need him? Hel-lo,” he notices Sam. “Castiel, who might this be?”

“Oh, my apologies, Gabriel, this is Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother. He and Dean’s uncle Bobby are paying a visit. Did Zeke not inform you of that?”

“He may have,” Gabe scratches his ear with a sparkly noise maker he’d pulled out of nowhere, “But unfortunately I forgot. Greetings, Sam. I am Gabriel, trickster, a ball o’ fun, and the life of the party! Woohoo!!!!” He grabs Sam’s hand and shakes his entire arm. “Let’s get this shiznit STARTED! You got the Spice Girls loaded up, Castiel?” Gabe hollers, spinning away from Sam. “Cuz I am in the mood to dance!”

“Just press ‘play’” Cas says with a smile. Sam moves over and hits the button next to the speaker.

“Grazi, dear boy,” Gabriel purrs before going into a rendition of ‘Wanna Be’ that nearly has Sam flat on the floor howling with laughter.

A few minutes later here comes Anna wearing a tight leather jacket over a low-cut ruffled scarlet shirt, carrying a box of chocolate covered strawberries, and wearing enough red lipstick to stop an eighteen wheeler.

“Ezekiel says to tell you he is on his way to pick up Michael from football practice right now, after which Michael will shower and then the two of them will head over. He apologizes for his lateness.”

“That will not be a problem,” Castiel says. “We are missing the co-host at this point in time, anyway.”

“Yeah, where is that man-candy housemate of yours?” Anna purrs sultrily. “I wore this outfit just for him.” Uh-oh. Sam glances at Cas’ creased brow and his slightly stiff lips before standing up and moving forward to curb the girl’s unbridled enthusiasm for Dean.

“Dean will be back soon, but if you wore that coat for him, I’m afraid you’re gonna be disappointed. Dean has his own leather jacket, and thinks he looks so good in it that he’ll just admire himself all night.” Anna’s head whips towards Sam, her hair nearly smacking Gabriel in the face. Cas’ lips start twitching as her mouth opens in an O, taking in the tall young man, his full lips, strong chin, straight nose with slightly flared nostrils, and the biggest hazel puppy-dog eyes she’s ever seen, underneath a slightly messy crop of brown hair, worn rather long for a guy, but still cute.

“And who might you be to know that, cutie?” She asks breathily. Gabe can’t help sniggering, and Cas does too, earning them both dirty looks from Anna.

“I’m Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother. And I know he seems like quite a catch, but I could tell you some things about him that would put you off for sure.”

“I do love naughty secrets,” Anna purrs, her red nails tapping the counter and her eyes brightening with mischief. “Why don’t you sit with me on the couch and tell me all about him?” Sam grins, his bright smile at once kind, sincere, and roguish, before nodding infinitesimally at Cas.

“You may be sorry that you asked. But after you,” he says gallantly to Anna, inviting her to sit down. Gabriel widens his eyes and guffaws.

“Score one for Sam; Dean’s never been THAT polite to this kitty-cat, eh Castiel?” he nudges Castiel’s shoulder. Cas makes a minute noise of agreement, but cannot form the words to reply. He is in shock. Sam had recognized his resentment of Anna’s interest in Dean, and skillfully stopped her from continuing to show it! He had even nodded at Cas in reassurance. What did it mean? Does Sam know how Castiel feels about Dean, and is this his way of saying that he’s fine with it? Does anyone else know? Does Dean WANT anyone to know?! Castiel realizes he needs to be more subtle, at least until he and Dean talk to one another and figure out the best way to handle this. He doesn’t want to ruin a fun evening with relationship issues, so Castiel needs to shut his jealousy down. Sam had effectively done that FOR him—he’d even made Cas laugh at Anna’s ridiculousness. That’s the thing with Sam; he has managed to establish intimacy and empathy with Castiel AS WELL AS with Anna, and can connect with both of them. Cas feels unburdened, free from the secret he’d been trying to keep—not out of fear, but from his respect for Dean and the worries Dean had about how his family would react. Sam is totally fine with it, so that is one mystery solved. His feelings are demonstrated again a few minutes later when Dean comes back and Cas grabs him in a quick floury embrace behind the kitchen counter. Sam glances over and gives the two of them a subtle nod.

“What’s goin’ on, Cas?” Dean mutters as he catches Sam’s glance.

“A lot of things, Dean,” Castiel breathes into his ear. “More than you know.”

“All righty, then you’d better fill me in,” Dean hisses back. “How’s the cooking coming? Did you drive Sam to distraction yet?” He moves behind Cas to stand next to him at the island, hands gently squeezing Cas’s hips out of sight below the counter’s edge as he shifts, making Castiel’s heart pound.

“The cooking is excellent; Sam has created homemade tortillas and I have washed the lettuce, poured the cheese, and cut up the other vegetables.” Castiel gestures proudly at their handiwork and Dean nods in approval.

“Good job, Cas. You too, Sammy!” he adds loudly. Sam, now deep in conversation with Anna, raises his head and points a finger at Dean.

“No problem, brother, I’ve got your back.” The way he says it makes Dean wonder why Sam seems so interested in talking to Anna. From the looks she’s sending in his direction, Dean can tell Anna is desperately trying to flirt and/or hook up with him, and normally Dean would respond, but even though Anna IS frisky and sexy and he’s sure he could have her for the night without a problem, there is also Castiel standing beside him, his shoulder rubbing against Dean’s as he rakes the vegetables into separate bowls with long-fingered capable hands. Dean longs to take those hands and cover them in kisses, but now isn’t the right time for such things. Instead he takes the chicken out of the oven.

Bobby comes in with some six-packs of beer under his arms and close behind him are Michael and Zeke.

“Hey hey hey, the gang’s all here!” Gabriel yells, running forward so fast he nearly collides with Bobby, who raises the beer over his head and gives Gabe his deluxe ‘what the hell’ face. It cracks Sam and Dean up. “I’m Gabe,” Gabe says after straightening up and looking at the bamboozled face of Bobby. “And that expression is totally natural after meeting me. ‘Scusie!” Gabriel uses his natural exuberance to usher Zeke and Mike into the room, for which Dean is grateful because Castiel is looking squinty-eyed at Michael in a way that makes him wonder if it was a good idea to invite the football player after all. But then Zeke brings Michael over to meet Dean, and he is perfectly polite.

“Hey, Dean, this is Mike. Gabe’s older brother.”

“Michael,” The dark-headed guy says, “And thanks for inviting me to your shindig.”

“Dean Winchester. Glad to have you.” They shake hands. “I think you already know Castiel.” There is a slight pause as Cas’s blue eyes stare down Michael’s dark brown ones. Michael clears his throat.

“Yes I do. It’s, uh, good to see you again.” He nods slightly in Cas’s direction as an apology for his former behavior. At least, whatever the expression is on his face it makes Castiel soften, his hands slowly unclenching from around the lettuce bowl.

“Sorry we’re late,” Zeke says. “But Michael didn’t want to come here all sweaty from practice. Luckily this place is right across the road from the on-campus dorms.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty convenient without all the ID hassle to get in at night. If I’ve got my key no one’s got anything to say about it. Plus there’s a sweet view.” Shit. Dean’s window looks right at Cas’s. They’ll be found out. But luckily Gabe chooses that moment to rush around the kitchen in a frenzy singing,

“‘You’ve BLOWN IT ALL SKY-HIGH / BY TELLIN’ ME A LIE / WITHOUT A REASON WHY / just blown it all sky-HIIIIGHH!!!’” He cannonballs onto the couch and from the sounds of shrieking and cursing, flings himself directly on top of Anna and Sam. By the time they all get their limbs untangled, Bobby has finally made it to the fridge and stashed his beer.

“Okay, I gotta ask, is anyone over 21 here? Yeah?” Zeke and Michael raise their hands. “All right, then. You get to drink beer. Not you, maniac,” he says pointedly to Gabriel. “Dean will be turning 21 soon so it’s all right with me if he has some too, and obviously you are all old enough to make your own decisions, but I don’t know what the cops are like in this town so we’ll just have to turn off all the lights if anyone comes.” This comment brings Cas up short. He cannot condone this; underage drinking is not only against the law, it is dangerous. Both Zeke and Anna need to be able to drive home. Castiel is too overwrought to be eloquent in telling Bobby the downsides of this course of action, but Dean can see that Castiel is fidgeting nervously so he pats his arm and offers to stop any underage drinking that goes on.

“We don’t have to worry about Sam,” Dean mutters. “The kid’s got issues with fatherly authority but he won’t mess with the cops.” Castiel glances over to see Sam looking as uncomfortable as he himself feels. This might also be because Anna has gravitated closer to him on the couch… Dean stifles a laugh as Sam nearly falls off the edge and bounces up looking awkward and waving his hands around before heading hurriedly to the kitchen to get a (non-alcoholic) drink. “Having fun yet, Sam?” Dean chortles knowingly and his little brother gives him a primo bitch-face.

“It’s not funny, Dean. I think she came here for the express purpose of hooking up with you, but I got her off of that; and now she’s interested in ME instead! I have a girlfriend! What do I do now?”

“Really? You think she wanted to hook up with me? Why would that bother you enough to stop her?” Sam glances pointedly from Dean to Castiel, who is now over by the oven checking on the cooling chicken, and then says in an undertone,

“I didn’t want her to…step on any toes. When you’re committed to somebody it’s, it’s a special thing. Don’t mess it up or let it slip away, Dean.” Sam’s eyes are big and deep and sincere. Dean shakes his head and licks his lips before leaning forward and speaking in a whisper.

“You know?”

“I know.”

“How long did it take for you to figure it out?” Sam snickers.

“Not that long, it’s pretty obvious that Cas is over the moon about you, and I think you should go for it, Dean. I can tell you like him.”

“I, uh, already have…gone for it.” Sam raises his eyebrows and grins broadly at his older brother’s admission. Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. “But it’s okay? You’re fine with it?” Sam purses his lips and spreads his hands out.

“Why wouldn’t I be fine with it? You’re happy, right?” Dean nods, his lips lifting into the barest hint of a smile at Sam’s serious earnest look.

“Yeah, man, I am happy.”

“Then that’s all that matters. You’re my big brother, and I’ll love you no matter what.” Dean swallows past the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how to express how much this means to him.

“And Dad—?”

“If Dad has a problem with you…” Sam shakes his head and looks down, serious and solemn. “Well, he’ll have a problem with me too.”

“Thanks, Sammy. I, uh, it uh—it means a lot.” He clears his throat and straightens up. “No more chick flick moments, all right? All right. Dinner is ready, so that will have to wait, Gabe.” Gabriel, who has just finished blowing up the balloons and is ready to heave one at Zeke’s head, looks slightly put out. “Cas, would you mind handin’ everybody their plates? Help yourselves, we’ve got tortillas and chicken and vegetables and cheese and chocolate-covered strawberries…” Dean pops a few into his mouth and gets a dirty look from Sam. “What? My hands are clean!” People spread out around the room: Zeke sprawls on the floor and Michael quietly leans up against the single pillar, slightly apart as if still unsure what to make of his brother and friends. Bobby sits at the kitchen table to be closer to the beer. Anna is sipping a drink on the couch while Sam has moved to the chair—a wise decision, Dean thinks. You never know at parties, even small ones like theirs. He and Cas are left to lean up against the kitchen counter. 

Everything is going great; it’s silent except for the sounds of chewing and crunching, at least until Gabriel bounces out of his seat on the couch by Anna to the floor near Zeke, moving to get a prime shot to flick Michael with a black bean. He misses at first, and then hits his brother right in the nose. It’s a test, Dean thinks. To see how far he can go in front of their friends until Michael gets riled up. Gabe must like living dangerously, because after Cas’s story of the ‘accidental’ black eye, Michael isn’t someone he’d want to mess with just for funzies. But Gabriel is NOTHING like him, Dean decides after another bean flies. Zeke skewers Gabriel with a look of warning and says 

“Maybe you should cut it out, buddy,” but then Michael is on top of his brother, wrestling him to the ground. The remainder of Gabe’s fajita goes everywhere and Cas freaks. The familiar sight of a brotherly tussle makes Sam’s eyes find his brother’s, and Dean shrugs off-handedly before grinning and mouthing, 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam mouths back. 

“All right, all right, break it up. This is supposed to be a CIVILIZED dinner, Gabriel.” Dean makes an effort to be stern. This is completely undermined when Gabe pops up from beneath Michael’s arm, singing!

“‘Bongo bongo bongo I don’t wanna leave the Congo oh no-no-no-NO-no,’” The fact that Gabe is singing while his brother has him in a headlock is at once amusing and startling. “‘Bingle bangle bungle I’m so happy in the jungle I refuse to go!’” he continues. Bobby gives Castiel a look and mutters,

“What is wrong with this guy?”

“I do not know.” Cas replies. 

“Civilization—”

“I’ll stay right here,” Sam mumbles. Zeke has helped Michael to his feet and gotten him to release Gabe who spins around and promptly throws up, most likely from over-exertion.

“Dude! Seriously???” Dean bellows. “I JUST cleaned in here!” He goes over and mops up as fast as possible because barf stains are extremely tough to get out of the carpet. Second only to blood. Balance is restored and it has once again gotten quiet. Gabriel is now subdued, wrapped in a blanket and wedged in the corner by Michael and Ezekiel, who whispers to Castiel that his buddy just needed some quiet time.

“We could ALL use some quiet time,” Bobby growls. “That kid has been goin’ like the Energizer bunny all night long! It’s good to have energy, but good NIGHT he’s got a lot!” The slightly strained silence after this comment is broken by a chuckle from Sam and a loud laugh from Anna.

“He’s always been like that, practically since birth. It’s exhausting.” Michael looks sternly at his little brother. “You can come out of the corner if you promise to behave,” he says firmly. Dean remembers using that tone of voice when Sammy was being annoying as a kid, and Sam looks at Gabe with a hint of pity; he remembers it too. But Gabriel is defiant.

“Never,” he hisses. “You cannot contain me, brother. I will rise up of my own accord and you shall be the first to feel my wrath—twenty times as bad as the wrath of Khan—the wrath of Gabriel!” Michael rolls his eyes.

“All right, Gabe, we get it; but first you’ll have to put yourself on ice for a REALLY long time.” Dean says. His brother gives him a sideways look. Dean has always called Sam a nerd but that is easily the nerdiest thing he has ever heard anyone say. “Does anyone want to play Rock Band?” Dean asks quickly to change the subject. There is a loud sound of assent from Gabe. “Ah ah, you’re stuck in the corner for a while, sorry dude. Zeke, how ‘bout you pick the first song?” 

Zeke nods and runs through the choices, finally deciding on ‘Ballroom Blitz’ by The Sweet. Castiel takes the drums and Anna grabs the bass, leaving Zeke with the other guitar and Dean on vocals since no one else is speaking up. Great. Normally Dean has the chance to warm up before this particular song, but he’s not gonna shirk in front of their guests. Sammy is grinning and surreptitiously takes out his cell phone to record the inevitable voice cracks. Dean clears his throat and looks over at Cas, who also seems a bit nervous and is fiddling with his drumsticks. “It’s just like the last time we played, remember? The drums come first.” Castiel nods his head firmly and Dean closes his eyes.

“Are you ready, Cas?” Dean says in time with the music. “Anna? Zeke? All right, fellas, let’s goooooooooo!” Castiel comes in with arms a-swinging and drums banging, Anna’s hair is flying as she brings in the bass guitar, and Dean swallows his nerves and starts to relax before singing in the sultry rough voice that Sam remembers from his childhood and that Cas and the others have only recently come to know:

“‘Oh it’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me, (uh-huh) / and things are getting so strange; / I'd like to tell you everything I see (mm-hmm)…’” Dean does the pelvic thrust and shifts his weight onto his front foot, shooting an arm out and opening his eyes before his voice rises an octave:

“‘Ohhh I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact. / His eyes are as red as the sun! / And the girl in the corner—let NO ONE ignore her ‘cuz she thinks SHE'S the passionate one! / Ohhhh yeaaahhh it was like lightning— / everybody was frightening, / and the music was soothing; / and they all started grooving…’”

“Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah yeah!!!” All the rest chime in for the chorus, even Sam, though he starts laughing so hard he almost falls off the arm of the chair and stops recording for a moment after Zeke gets really into his guitar solo. Cas gets a little clumsy with the drumsticks and drops one, looking mortified, but Michael slides on his knees over to the set and picks up the beat, smacking the drum with his hand until he can reach the fallen stick and pass it back to Castiel.

“‘Oh I’m reaching after something, / Cuz touching nothing’s all I ever do…’” Dean croons, swinging his hips in a circle and running a hand through his hair. Even Bobby has started to hum along, his foot tapping on the tile floor, and Gabe has picked up Sam’s discarded recording now.

“‘…And the man in the back is ready to crack as he raises his hands to the sky!’” Michael and Gabe call out together and throw their hands in the air.

“‘And the girl in the corner / boy I wanna warn ya, / she could kill you with a wink of her eye—ohhhh yeahhh…’” Anna continues. Sam scoots behind her and comes up next to Dean, who holds the microphone out towards his little brother.

“‘The party’s electric, so frantically hectic, / and the band started leaving / cuz they all stopped breathing!!’” Sam hollers, pumping his fists and shuffling his feet in a clumsy little dance as the crowd on the game system starts cheering. Dean whoops and yells,

“Take it away, Cas!” So Castiel stands up and smacks the heck out of the drums.

“‘Blitz—blitz—blitz—blitz…It’s—it’s the Ballroom Blitz it’s—it’s the Ballroom Blitz it’s—it’s the Ballroom Blitz…yeaaahhhhh it’s the Ballroom Blitz!!!’” They end the song with a flourish, Zeke and Anna back-to-back holding out the last chords on their guitars and Dean lets out his breath in a whoosh. Apparently the game system got confused, though, because it gives them a rather low score. Gabriel goes ballistic.

“What??? That is such bullshit! It didn’t even pick Castiel up for half of the song!! Are you KIDDING me right now?”

“Calm down, Gabriel, that was probably my fault, I was smacking the shit out of his drum set.” Michael says quietly. 

“It wasn’t ALL your fault, Michael, Sam’s dance moves probably threw it off.” Dean grins at his younger brother who sticks his tongue out in return.

“I actually think it was on account of your wailing, Dean.”

“Oh really? I never missed a note!”

“Yeah, well, there’s a score up there that says you’re wrong.”

“Will you idjits just SHUT UP already??? The song was fine, now stop blowing smoke out of your asses and pick something else!” Bobby’s voice booms.

“The Singer has spoken,” Dean intones in a deep voice. “Your choice, Cas.”

Everyone gets a chance to play a few songs; Bobby even tries his hand at ‘Bad To The Bone’ because it’s apparently something you can’t mess up. Or at least that was what he figured before he has to follow the combinations of crazy-colored dots on the screen. Sam tries to help his uncle at first, but becomes progressively more done with each off-key note. Dean can’t stop laughing and even Michael cracks a smile when Bobby finally just starts jabbing his fingers over the dots on the screen of the TV as they appear. 

Cas has plopped onto the couch next to Dean; and Zeke, Anna, and Gabriel have decided to do some sort of song play-off with the level cranked all the way up to ‘Expert’. Sam is recording their antics, including Zeke’s fabulous skid on his knees across the carpet for another guitar solo. After the three friends have finally had enough—Gabe and Anna almost come to blows over who did the best riffing in their final song together—Dean decides to brew some coffee so anyone who needs to will be alert on their drive home. Castiel disappears through the window into his room and returns a moment later with a large plate of chocolate-chip cookies.

“Surprise!” He says shyly. “I took the liberty of baking something on my own…to thank all of you for coming. And it helps to atone for Dean consuming all of Anna’s chocolate-covered strawberries.” Sam rolls his eyes in amusement and exasperation as Dean immediately runs over to Cas and grabs two cookies to jam them in his mouth. There is a second of silence as he swallows, and then:

“Damn! These are good! Cas, I think you’ve been hiding your true cooking skills from me! Have some, everybody.” Cas blushes beet-red as Dean pats him on the back and takes the plate around the room himself, beaming proudly at Castiel’s accomplishment. There are exclamations of enjoyment and agreement from the others as soon as they take their first bites. Bon Jovi plays quietly on Dean’s jerry-rigged speakers as he moves around the room with his arm hanging comfortably around Castiel’s shoulders. Sam notes a slightly dark glance from Michael and a sidelong jealous one from Anna at this, but he doesn’t think his brother either notices or cares. 

After Gabe, Anna, and Michael depart at last, Zeke and Sam pull out a pack of cards and Bobby dozes on the couch (losing the Rock Band game obviously tired him out) as Dean and Cas clean up the kitchen. Their hands mingle together in the sink’s soapy water as they scrub congealed cheese from plates. Dean hums quietly along to his music as Castiel sways next to him and smiles. Sam and Zeke talk in hushed tones so as not to wake Bobby, and Dean nudges Cas before whispering, “I told ya they’d like each other.” 

“I’m glad they do, and am pleased we had this party, Dean,” Cas says. “It is good to have friends.”

“Yeah, it is. I actually had fun. I think even Michael enjoyed himself a little bit. Maybe he was just glad you didn’t brain him.” Castiel lowers his eyes with a tiny smile.

“I…I cannot say that the thought of throwing a punch did not cross my mind when he first came into the room.” Dean’s face splits in a wide grin and he smacks Cas on the shoulder playfully.

“Attaboy! You’ve been learnin’ from me.” 

“Yes, and I am extremely proud to be able to say that.” Castiel rinses his hands and wipes them off on a dishtowel before catching Dean’s face in those newly clean, cool hands and kissing him gently. “I mean it, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, smiling broadly into Castiel’s lips and wrapping his own arms firmly around the other’s waist. “Yeah, I know. Me too. I’m glad we met—and I’m real happy that you’re here.” The full extent of Dean’s happiness is soon made very clear—he drops to his knees and unbuttons Castiel’s slacks to stroke and suck and cradle him right there; granting an orgasm while his oblivious little brother plays War with their pal Ezekiel.


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing catch-up and coming out

***  
The next day has Dean, Sam, and Bobby driving around town in the Impala. Dean points out all of the interesting landmarks and Sam marks their names on his map so that he can look up facts about his big brother’s college town. First Bobby scouts out all of the bars that he’d missed yesterday, and then points out the shadiest looking places that Dean should be sure to case if anything goes wrong, to which Dean has to crack: “Like what, Bobby? If the zombie apocalypse starts happening?”

“No, for something like THAT you ought to get in the car and drive up to my place. It’s better to be out of the big towns. Less chance to get infected. I’ve got supplies on the homestead, in any case.” Sam snorts.

“Bobby, you live in the middle of a junkyard full of rusted-out old cars!”

“Yeah, and there’s lotsa places to make a stand from! We’ll definitely see the threats comin’, and with those shooting skills your daddy taught you, we will be in good shape.” 

Dean doesn’t have a smartass reply to this. He’d wanted to forget about those lonely childhood days out shooting with his father, even as he clung ever tighter to the memories of taking care of Sammy at home. The coded games they would play, whenever Sam read a good book or saw an awesome movie, and decided that he and Dean should come up with a game about it. That would effectively exercise the brother’s minds, and the code words still resonate with Dean today. He remembers Sam’s favorite X-wing pilot from the original Star Wars movies: Wedge Antilles; Sam knows every comeback Han throws at Leia because Dean would tease him with “‘Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking NERF HERDER!’” whenever Sam decided to let his hair grow longer, said something smart, or gave Dean one of his done looks. 

Bobby realizes he’s opened up some hard memories and old wounds, so he’s quiet for a while as they continue their drive. These boys are the closest thing he has to family, almost adopted sons, and he remembers threatening their father, John, with a shotgun when he came to collect Dean and Sam at Bobby’s house when they were eight and four. They had been stuck at home with no food or contact “For FIVE DAYS, dammit! Five entire days! They’re just kids, John, not some hardened hell-bent crazy Marines in your special ops squadron! And if I’m not ABSOLUTELY sure they’re gonna be well cared for, then they aren’t leavin’!”

Dean had finally decided to call Uncle Bobby, since that didn’t go against his dad’s specific set of rules, and Bobby immediately dropped what he’d been doing and drove over to the Winchester house to bring the brothers home with him. They had run out of food that eight-year-old Dean was able to cook and Sammy was in tears from hunger and from going stir-crazy. Dean was on edge too, almost crying himself because of the fact he had to let his dad down and ask for outside help. It was just Uncle Bobby, but Dean had learned from his dad that their little family was fine on its own and so it was almost impossible for him to leave the house until Bobby scooped little Sammy into his arms and took the two boys out for Cracker Barrel chicken and dumplings, which was the closest thing to a decent home-cooked meal the gruff guy could think of. Then they went to the grocery store and Bobby pushed Sam around in the cart while Dean walked beside him, buying all the stuff Sam pointed his chubby little hands at and also at any grub Dean happened to lay his eyes on. 

Next Bobby went to Blockbuster and rented a movie, Bambi, because Sam got all excited when he saw the big-eyed deer and the chubby rabbit on the front of it and Dean didn’t roll his eyes TOO much—he’d actually been kind of excited to see an actual kids’ movie; Dad didn’t like those, and after seeing it Dean understood why. Life isn’t always happy; your mom can get shot by a hunter or die in a house fire, and you’ve got to have somebody to teach you how to live in a world where not everything turns out okay. 

But a kid could dream, and Dean found himself doing just that whenever he was with Bobby. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but having his surrogate uncle close by was beneficial, especially when things got rough between Sam and their father. After he did his best to calm Sammy down, Dean would drive out to visit Bobby in Sioux Falls and hang around his junkyard, tinkering with the cars until the storm blew over at home. Sam would go with Dean and he’d always find some old Sherlock Holmes collection or J.R.R. Tolkien book in Uncle Bobby’s attic or garage. 

It was Bobby who got him started on Harry Potter by finding the first four books dirt-cheap somewhere and wrapping them up for Sam’s 11th birthday on May 2nd. Dean rolled his eyes and made snarky comments when his little brother got so excited about the boy wizard, but he often snuck a read at night after Sam was asleep and his dad was busy with the house bills or whatever. 

It’s a long bittersweet drive down memory lane for Dean and Sam and Bobby, but they feel closer to each other by the end of it. Sam and Bobby check into a hotel for the night because “My back is too bad to spend another second sleeping on Dean’s sofa, and I reckon you want some space,” which is the only allusion his uncle has made to Dean’s relationship situation with Castiel and it’s an oblique allusion at that. Dean isn’t even sure that Bobby KNOWS anything about him and Cas, but he’ll have until Monday to broach the subject tactfully.

Sunday is a catch-playing day. Catching a ball and catching up; Sam relates to Dean what he’d told Castiel on Friday, about his AP US History class and then Psychology, which leads him into talking about how he met his girlfriend, and Sam spends twenty minutes just talking about Jess. He could go on longer, too. Bobby growls that Jessica has been coming around to help Sam study several times a week. “She’s keepin’ him on track,” Bobby said. “She’s a nice girl. Without Jess, he’d crash and burn, Sam said.” Bobby snorts. “Personally I think that’s a tad overdramatic, but you know him.” Yeah, Dean did know Sam. He also knew Bobby, and ‘overdramatic’ didn’t BEGIN to cover half of the things he’d said and done over the years. “What are you smirking at?” Bobby asks gruffly. “Cut it out, kid, or I may let Sam drive the Impala to school instead of the pickup.” Dean stops smiling immediately.

“No, you wouldn’t, Bobby. You wouldn’t do that to me.” Bobby chuckles at Dean’s wide eyes and claps him on the shoulder. 

“’Course not. I just gotta keep you guessing.”

“Jesus. You scared the life outta me. Do you know what Sam would do to that car if he got to drive it?” Bobby chuckles.

“I bet he’d keep books in it.” Dean nods fervently.

“Books, and his schedules for class, and that horseshit country and Top 20 pop music that he likes—he’d take the mixed tapes out and put in a ‘proper radio’ or an iPod jack—plus he’d mash the hell out of the gears when pealing out of parking spaces…” Dean shakes his head ruefully and shudders. “I mean, I love the guy, but he really doesn’t know how to take care of cars.” 

“It’s probably ‘cause he’s more focused on takin’ care of something else,” and they look over at Sam, who is now on the phone with Jess, his puppy-dog eyes soft and his smile enormous. Then Bobby turns to Dean, his face serious. “You got anyone to take care of you, Dean?” Dean snorts.

“What do you mean? I can take care of myself fine, been doing it since I was five. I’m an adult now, Bobby, and if all else fails I can always call you.” He grins, evading the question, because he’s sure he knows what’s coming next. Bobby shakes his head.

“You’re avoiding the question, dammit. Sam has Jess. Jess has Sam. They are together. Who have you got at school here?”

“Well, I’ve got some friends—Benny and Zeke and Balthazar and Anna and Gabriel. You’ve met most of ‘em. And I live next door to Cas.”

“Yeah, I know that. Castiel. He seems like a good fella. Wears that nice coat with all the pockets. Good handshake, too. Pretty quiet, though. I couldn’t get too much of a read on him except that he likes you.”

Dean gulps. Yeah, Cas likes him. That doesn’t BEGIN to cover it, though. Now Bobby is squinting at Dean with those scrutinizing eyes of his that miss nothing. Oh no.

“He likes you, like he LIKES you, doesn’t he?” Bobby finally manages to say. Dean shrugs the question off.

“I think you need a better vocabulary, Bobby. Yeah, we like each other; we hang out and cook and play Rock Band all the time.”

“No, kid, I mean he wants you to be his boyfriend or something.” Bobby grunts and crosses his arms, his face unreadable as he looks at Dean. “Is that right?”

“Jesus, Bobby, if you’re gonna put it that way…”

“Yes I am putting it that way. You keep evading the question. Are you two lovers or not?”

“Well DAMN, that went pretty fast, first ‘boyfriends’ and now ‘lovers’? Come on…” Dean trails off as he can see his joking evasions are availing nothing. Bobby knows him too well; he’s way too smart to fall for that. “All right, yes, Bobby. We are, uh, in a relationship.” He waits for Bobby to explode, to say that’s totally wrong, what is Dean thinking, he’s going to call John…and then,

“All right, good for you, Dean. How is that going?”

“What?”

“Well when did you guys get it on? I expect it didn’t happen the instant you met. I want details, boy. Tell me more about this guy.” Dean realizes: this is not his father. Bobby is different, open and accepting. Or at least accepting.

“Well, he’s a terrible cook. I almost fell over when he brought that plate of cookies out the other night. He’s a genius with languages, helps me with Latin constantly and wants to major in religious studies. He’s a good listener, he’ll let you talk and rant and rave as long as you need to before answering. He’s super quiet and seems kinda cold at first, but when you get him into any kind of social situation after he gets over being awkward he lights up like the sun. He’s a comfort. We—we kind of bonded over our problems.”

“What problems?”

“You know, home life. Absentee father, ignorant parents, bullies, that sort of thing. I guess our shared pain has kind of helped us heal. We just hold each other and talk about it all…ahem. Jeez I sound like such a sap.” Bobby laughs and slaps Dean on the back. 

“I knew it, kid. I knew you’d learn that someday.”

“Learn what, Bobby?”

“That it’s oKAY to let out your emotions. It is okay to feel however you feel and let the world know it. Or in this case, let your boyfriend know it. It’s good for you to trust him. Trust is important.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Dean replies quietly, a warm feeling settling in his stomach as Bobby nurses a beer and Sam talks to Jess for a little while longer. There are different types of trust, though—with Cas, as with Sam and Bobby, he can confide in them completely, without fear. But his father is a different story. John Winchester doesn’t trust himself to take care of his sons, so he had them take care of each other; how will someone with deep-rooted issues like that deal with the fact that his elder son is bisexual? It shouldn’t matter one whit if he loves Dean, but Dean is afraid that his dad won’t see it that way. To stop himself from getting worried over what his father might think when he eventually decides to broach the subject with him, Dean asks Bobby, “So what about you, Bobby? Any big moments in your life I should know about?” Bobby grunts.

“Well, I’m still fixin’ cars. Some jackass did a number on Ellen’s Expedition so she had to bring it to me a few weeks back. Jo says hi, by the way. She told me to tell you not to get in too much trouble without her.” Dean grins. Jo Harvelle is an old friend he’s known for a long time; her mother had known his mother, and their fathers were in the Marine Corps together. Dean and Jo had definitely gotten into their fair share of scrapes over the years…and made out with each other a few times too.

“That’s sooo nice of her. How’s her mother?”

“Oh, Ellen is just as hard working as ever. Man, that woman doesn’t know the meanin’ of the phrase ‘slow down’! She’s thinkin’ of openin’ up a new food chain; Roadhouses across Kansas and all the way through Colorado and Utah to Nevada along Highway 66. I told her she was gonna have to pull one behind a truck…what are you boys laughing at?” Sam has just hung up with his girlfriend and comes over during Bobby’s last comment. He and Dean both begin chuckling quietly.

“Nothing, Bobby. It’s just kind of perfect.” Sam laughs.

“What is?”

“You and Ellen,” Dean says. “I mean you could use one of your trucks to deliver for her on 66, and when the window’s down and the night wind starts blowing…who knows what’ll happen?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Dean. You boys are insane. Where do you get off prying into my personal life?! Besides, she doesn’t think of me that way at all.”

“C’mon, Bobby, you bug the crap outta us! I’m just returning the favor! Plus how d’you know she doesn’t like you? Have you asked her?”

“Don’t need to,” Bobby grunts.

“Jo told me she didn’t hesitate to bring the car over to you. In fact, she might’ve made a few more dents in it beforehand so that it’ll take longer for you to fix.” Sam says, grinning. Bobby finishes his beer in a single long swig. Dean nudges his younger brother in the ribs before saying,

“Come on, Bobby, you just said that I needed someone, maybe that’s a good idea for you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly doubt that there are Cracker Barrels in Sioux Falls, but I thought that would be a good choice for the Winchesters to get an (almost) home-cooked meal with their adoptive uncle. So I apologize if the place they'd go is anachronistic.


	16. Chapter 15

***  
Cas hears about the drama club interest meeting from Ezekiel on the following Tuesday. Apparently Zeke had heard about it from Balthazar, who is obviously a man of many talents—not only does he work as a TA and mix killer machiattos, he also happens to be the head of the Theatre Team. There is a midwinter show going on and apparently auditions are open to the university public, for cast as well as crew.

“So all you strapping young lads can have something to do!” Balthazar teases.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re gonna be studying like crazy for finals or anything,” Dean grumbles.

“Come on, Dean, it will be fun.” Cas wheedles.

“I don’t act.”

“You could sing your part.”

“I’m not gonna sing.”

“Why not? You sing all the time in the apartment, and it is wonderful.” Cas smiles and leans into Dean’s side. Dean snakes his arm around Cas’s back automatically.

“I don’t—ah, man, I just can’t sing when I’m uncomfortable!”

“Why would you be uncomfortable? We are here with Zeke and Balthazar.”

“Theatre… I dunno, Cas, it seems like some secret supernatural club where they sacrifice unbelievers by the light of the harvest moon. I’ve just never been into show tunes or anything; the way people simultaneously bust out into a musical number kinda freaks me out.” Castiel chuckles at this portion of Dean that he’s never before seen, and decides to keep it close to his heart just as he has with all of Dean’s other idiosyncrasies.

“Well, I will be here, Dean. When you perform your audition, just sing to me.” The two of them have almost reached the theater door, beside which Ezekiel is waiting. Castiel squeezes Dean’s arm reassuringly before letting go and stepping away to put a respectable distance between the two of them. Dean misses his warmth, and longs to pull Cas back in and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he has to settle for that arm squeeze of reassurance.

“Thanks, Cas,” he says. “Hey, Zeke. I guess it’s show time!”

“Hi Castiel, hey Dean. Yes, it is,” Zeke says. “In more ways than one.”

“Great. That makes me feel SO much better,” Dean mumbles.

“You will do fine,” Cas assures him. There are other students streaming through the theater entrance now. A rangy wispy-looking guy is welcoming everybody with a nod or a shy smile. He has a pageboy haircut and wears layers of flannel and denim similar to Dean’s. His left hand remains by his side and Dean looks closely, expecting to see a gun or maybe a shriveled useless limb, but no—this kid is wearing a sock puppet. Dean hasn’t seen one of those since he was four years old, when his mother would have sock puppets talk to him if he had a bad day in preschool. Dean clears his throat and blinks rapidly, looking away. The surge of memory is so strong as it sweeps over him that he nearly stumbles whilst walking in the door and suddenly the thin kid is there with a steadying right hand beneath his elbow. He gives Dean a tiny smile.

“Hi there, and welcome to the theater. I’m Garth.”

“I’m Dean,” Dean clears his throat, embarrassed to be here in the first place; as well as the fact that he’s being held up by this scrawny guy who is actually surprisingly strong. “Uh, thanks for catching me. I’m not normally clumsy, I just, you know…”

“Yeah,” Garth says calmly. “That last big step is a doozy. I’ve tripped up these stairs countless times, so don’t worry. It’s good to have you here, Dean.” Against his will, Dean feels warmth spreading through him as Garth pats his arm before releasing it to walk slightly ahead of and alongside him. The scrawny kid had recognized Dean’s embarrassment and immediately deflected it with his comment. “Oh, this is Mr. Fizzles,” he adds when Dean glances inquisitively at the sock puppet. “I’m taking Early Childhood Education classes where I work with young kids, and sometimes this is the only way they’ll interact with me—through Mr. Fizzles here. I get so used to having him on my hand that I keep him around almost all the time now. I get nervous before talking in front of large groups of people, and he soothes me. Ironic, isn’t it?” Dean nods silently. He too is feeling unreasonably nervous, but Cas is walking on his opposite side. His solid calming presence allows Dean to relax a little. Since Garth doesn’t have a Castiel, it’s really good he’s got a Mr. Fizzles there for him. “Be advised,” Garth adds in an undertone as they head to sit down, “People say that this theater is haunted. Many years ago, a young woman hanged herself from that catwalk.” He points up into the shadows, and Dean squints hard to see it. Above the rigging for curtains and lights, there is a metal bridge-like structure stretching across the ceiling in front of the stage, above the proscenium arch. 

“That’s a nice thought,” Dean grumbles. “Did she not get the part she wanted?” Garth shakes his head.

“No, but I believe there was another, more sordid reason for her going up there. It’s said that she was having an affair with the director until his eyes were caught by another pretty young star.” Dean shakes his head and Cas looks horrified.

“It’s always the same old story with ghosts. So now she wants revenge?” Dean has always been into ghost stories. He usually wasn’t much for reading books, but there had been a spooky short story collection in the high school detention room. He still remembered it. Especially Edgar Allan Poe—now that guy had some SERIOUS issues. Not as many as these theatre kids though; he recognizes this fact when Garth replies,

“Hard to say. But theatre geeks are notoriously superstitious. If anyone even whispers the name Macbeth—” Immediately several gasps and a scream emanate from a group down front, and a few voices call out,

“‘Angels and ministers of grace defend us!’” in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it (which, being theatre kids, they probably have). Garth chuckles fondly as Dean gazes at him, nonplussed.

“It’s a line from Hamlet, when the prince first sees his father as a ghost. He invoked heavenly protection in order to be sure his father was not an evil spirit.”

“Oh, well that makes sense then.” Dean tries to imagine HIS father appearing as a ghost. He’d just tell Dean to fix the Impala and look after Sammy. Actually, he probably wouldn’t talk to Dean at all since the big-shot had gone off to college the previous year. “Left all your responsibilities here,” John Winchester had said. “That’s fine! But if you go through that door, don’t even think about coming back!” If that’s how you want it, Dad, Dean shouts back vehemently in his mind, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. It has been an entire year and the words his father had shouted at him still hurt. Garth has moved forward a few rows to sit down front with the other people in charge, so now it is just Cas and Dean cramped into raggedy red theater seats next to one another.

Castiel feels the tension twang through his beloved, and too much tension in a bowstring always causes it to fray and break, so he reaches out to Dean and clasps his left hand firmly, lacing their fingers together and nodding at Dean serenely when he slowly turns and looks into Castiel’s face. “Don’t worry, Dean. It will be all right.” Dean swallows. Does Cas know what he was thinking? Can he somehow see inside him? Or is his reassurance just about Dean’s audition, which he is seriously considering bailing out of at this moment? He’s not in a singing mood, especially with his father’s words pounding through his head and weighing him down.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean replies, his voice a thread.

This is the song Dean sang, shuffling to the lonely microphone downstage center, with his dad’s furious words still ringing in his ears. He puts so much power and emphasis into the words that the whole theater gets quiet. 

“‘When the days are cold /and the cards all fold /and the saints we see / are all made of gold; / When our dreams all fail / and the ones we hail /are the worst of all / and the blood’s run stale…  
I wanna hide the truth / I wanna shelter you / but with the beast inside / there’s nowhere we can hide; /No matter what we breed / we still are made of greed—/ this is my kingdom come, / this is my kingdom come—  
When you feel my heat / look into my eyes / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide. / Don’t get too close, / it’s dark inside, / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide.  
When the curtains fall / it’s the last of all / when the lights fade out /all the sinners crawl. /So they’ve dug your grave / in a masquerade / and they’re calling out / at the mess you’ve made—  
Don’t wanna let you down, / but I am Hell-bound! / Oh this is all for you, / don’t wanna hide the truth… / No matter what we breed / we still are made of greed / this is my kingdom come, / this is my kingdom come  
When you feel my heat / look into my eyes / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide. / Don’t get too close, / it’s dark inside, / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide.  
They say it’s what you make / I say it’s up to Fate; / it’s woven in my soul / I need to let you go / Your eyes they shine so bright / I wanna save that light / I can’t escape this now / Unless you show me how!!!  
When you feel my heat / look into my eyes / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide. / don’t get too close, / it’s dark inside, / it’s where my demons hide, / it’s where my demons hide (Hide).’”

After he is through singing, Dean raises his head and looks over at Cas. Castiel’s hands are covering his mouth and his eyes are shining—with tears of horror at the incrediably awful rendition of the song or with admiration, Dean isn’t quite sure, but then Cas lowers his hands and smiles, causing Dean to relax in a rush. He clears his throat and puts the microphone back on its stand before walking off the stage in the silence. Suddenly Balthazar bounces up and begins clapping wildly. The other students and directors join in, even Garth, who was smiling the entire time. 

“Bravo, Dean Winchester! That was excellent! Very good, most excellent!” Balthazar gushes. Dean can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Can you sing anything else?” Dean stares.

“What, you mean right now?”

“No, I mean come back in a year.” Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Of course now! We want to hear more of your wonderful voice! What else can you sing? Do you know only contemporary pieces?” Dean clears his throat, nervous now that he’s stopped singing and so much attention is focused on him.

“Uh, I know a few contemporary songs, but I like mostly classic stuff. Bon Jovi, Van Halen, The Animals, Asia, groups like that.”

“Sing something ‘like that’, then! Not Bon Jovi—unless you know something OTHER than ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’.” Balthazar groans theatrically. “How many drunken karaoke nights have I been forced to listen to that song?” He turns to Ezekiel with this lamentation and Dean almost drops his jaw in shock.

“A lot,” Zeke assures him. Then he smiles at Dean. “Sing another song if you’d like, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean coughs and shifts awkwardly. “Um, this is Bon Jovi, ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’. It may not work without the badass guitar solos, but…here we go.” Dean puts both hands on the mic stand and begins in a husky voice:

“‘It’s all the same / only the names have changed; / every day it seems we’re wastin’ awaaay. / Another place / where the faces are so cold, / I drive all niiight / just to get back home.  
I’m a cowboy / on a steel horse I ride / I’m wanted! / Dead or alive… / Wanted / dead or alive!  
Sometimes I sleep / sometimes it’s not for days. / The people I meet / always go their separate ways. / Sometimes you tell the day / by the bottle that you drink! / And times when you’re alone, / well all you do is think.  
I’m a cowboy / on a steel horse I ride / I’m wanted! (Wanted) / Dead or alive… / Wanted (WANTEED) / dead or alive!  
Ohhh I ride! YEAH!!!’” With this bit Dean yanks the mic off its stand and pumps his fist and closes his eyes, as if he’s up there onstage with Bon Jovi, rocking out to the guitar solos. Castiel grins so wide he almost splits his face.  
“‘Ohhh I’m a cowboy / on a steel horse I ride / I’m wanted! (WANTED) / Dead or alive… /   
Cuz I’m a cowboy / I’ve got the night on my si-ide, / I’m wanted—(WANTED) Dead or alive… / And I walk these streets / a loaded six-string on my back / I play for keeps / cuz I might not make it back. / I’ve been everywhere (oh yeah) / and still I’m standing in time… /I’ve seen a million faces / and I’ve rocked them all…  
I’m a cowboy / on a steel horse I ride / I’m wanted! (Wanted) / Dead or alive… / wanted (WANTEED) / dead or alive!’” As Dean trails off at the end, he raises his hand and lets the mic drop. With a charming smile, Dean bows to the directors once more before hightailing it out of there and hustling back up to his safe cramped theater seat next to Castiel.

“That was wonderful, Dean,” Cas murmurs in his ear. “Absolutely wonderful.” That is all the praise Dean needed. He gets a little extra when Castiel swiftly nips his earlobe before moving back to his own seat, and the ache in Dean’s gut makes him grumble against the rules of propriety and PDA because he wants to take Castiel so hard right here on the old scruffy chairs. Call it a passionate rush of adrenaline, but it is only with immense difficulty that Dean manages to restrain himself.

Dean and Cas remain in the cramped chairs and watch the remainder of the auditions. Dean thinks about his own palms being clammy just a few minutes before and tries not to wince too much when people hit notes that are flat or sharp. Castiel smiles, amused at Dean’s discomfort; he is not unwilling to alleviate some of it by massaging Dean’s leg gently. After the audition process is completed and Zeke gives the all-clear to leave, Dean stands up quickly, raring to take Cas back to his apartment…Cas who is right behind him grinning madly. They are hustling up the isle when Balthazar’s voice rings out,

“Castiel! Don’t think of sneaking out now, poppet. It’s time for your audition.” Cas freezes.

“Oh no, I didn’t plan on—” He begins with a look of panic. Dean stops and turns back to him with a raised eyebrow.

“What, are you uncomfortable, Cas? Don’t worry. It’s just Zeke and Balthazar.” Castiel knows he is trapped when Dean sits back down and grins. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“Come on, Castiel. We need some more ensemble choir members as well as an archangel. I’ll sing with you if you would like,” Zeke says, standing up from his place next to Balthazar. Dean doesn’t miss the grateful look Cas shoots at Zeke, and instantly rises from his chair as well.

“I’ll sing with him too,” Dean says.

“Ah ah ah, Mr. Winchester. You have already performed your audition.” Balthazar shakes his finger reprovingly at Dean. “I am sure Ezekiel will only be singing enough to get Castiel started; am I right?”

“Yes you are,” Zeke agrees stoutly. “I’m just gonna hum background with him. What song would you like to sing?” Zeke asks Castiel. Cas twists his hands together nervously before standing on tiptoe to whisper in Zeke’s ear. Zeke looks surprised at the song choice. “Not too many people know this one.” Castiel’s shoulders slump and his face falls; Dean’s heart drops for him until Zeke claps Cas’ shoulder and sits down at the little practice piano. “You’re lucky that I do.” A smile crinkles the corners of Cas’s eyes and he relaxes slightly before stepping over to the same microphone Dean used.

“Since we will be performing a Christmas production,” Cas says quietly into the microphone, “I have chosen to sing a Christmas song.” He clears his throat and loosens his tie a little before Zeke begins to play the piano softly, nodding at Cas to begin. Castiel takes a deep breath to steady himself:

“‘Stockings are hung with care. / The children sleep with one eye open / But now there’s more than toys at stake / cuz I’m older now, but not done hoping…  
The twinkling of the lights, / Scented candles fill the household / Old St. Nick has taken flight / with a heart onboard, so please be careful. / Each year I ask for many different things / But now I know what my heart wants you to bring;   
So please just fall in love with me this Christmas! / There’s nothing else that I will need this Christmas! / Won’t be wrapped under a tree / I want something to last forever / so kiss me on this cold December night.  
A tree that smells of pine; / a house that’s filled with joy and laughter. / The mistletoe says stand in line / loneliness is what I’ve captured. / Oh but this evening it can be a holy night / Let’s cozy on up by the fireplace / and dim those Christmas lights—’” Castiel sways back and forth, getting more into the music now.   
“‘So please just fall in love with me this Christmas! / There’s nothing else that you will need this Christmas! / It won’t be wrapped under a tree / I want something to last forever / so kiss me on this cold December night…  
They call it the season of giving / I’m here, I’m yours for the taking / they call it the season of giving / I’m here I’m yoouurrrs!!!’” Castiel’s voice hits and soars on that high note, making Dean’s breath shallow with awe.  
“‘Just fall in love with me this Christmas / There’s nothing else that we will need this Christmas! / Won’t be wrapped under the tree / I want somethin’ to last forever,’” 

“‘To last forever,’” Zeke croons quietly. Cas continues and Dean remembers their first night together when Castiel’s very presence had the ability to comfort him.

“‘I don’t wanna be alone tonight / I’m wearing a Christmas sweater / Walk proudly to the mistletoe tonight / I want something to last…’”

“‘To last forever,’” Zeke echoes, his fingers just barely ghosting over the piano’s keys.

“‘So kiss me on this cold December night.’” Castiel tilts his face downward before raising his eyes to focus on Dean’s face with the song’s final words. “‘They call it the season of giving / I’m here, yours for the taking. /   
They call it the season of giving… / I’m here, I’m yours.’” Dean shivers and smiles with pleasure.

Unlike with Dean’s performance, after Cas is finished everyone remains quiet. There is something sanctified about Michael Buble’s ‘Cold December Night’ when Castiel sings it. After a few moments there are murmurs and then a swelling of steady sedate applause—as that given after a symphonic performance, opposed to the shrieks of chaos and pandemonium at a rock concert—begins. Castiel shyly smiles and bows. Dean lets out a wolf-whistle because he can’t resist. He’s rather taken aback by the song choice actually. Dean didn’t even know that Cas LIKED Christmas that much. Of course, they hadn’t had long involved conversations on the subject, but in Dean’s experience, holidays aren’t too much fun for broken families. It’s always hard to put on a smiling face for such a meaningless day. Sure, it was the celebration of Jesus’ birthday (but Dean has his doubts about that, as he knows that lambs aren’t born in midwinter and the shepherds always carry lambs in the pictures when they go to worship the baby Jesus). 

Basically, the Christmas season has Dean smelling a rat, not to mention the whole thing with Santa Claus. Guy is creepy, watching little kids the entire year and knowing exactly when they’re asleep or awake, if they’ve been bad or good—which is all relative anyway, Dean thinks. Where does Santa get off telling people how good they’ve acted? How does HE know?? Being able to shoot a deer for food may be seen as an admirable trait in one culture while it’ll have PETA up your ass in another. Dean is musing over this whilst Balthazar announces that the list of cast members will be tacked on the theater door the following day.

“We need to get started early of course; midwinter is less than a month away!” Balthazar shouts excitedly, flinging his hands around wildly and inviting anyone who wishes to come to drink a cup of tea with him and Ezekiel after the audition’s conclusion. Castiel hurries up to Dean, his face questioning. Dean rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Yes, Cas, I will come drink a cup of Balthazar’s orgasmic tea with you.” They turn and walk back up the isle together, and Dean leans in to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “That was awesome, by the way. I’m proud of you for getting up there and singing.” Castiel blushes beet red with pleasure.

“Thank you, Dean. I learned from the best.”

The two of them step out onto the front steps of the theater and halt just outside the door. It is snowing! Right here as if conjured by the act of creating a midwinter show and singing Christmas songs, it is actually SNOWING! Huge fluffy white flakes are coasting down and blowing hard in the wind. Dean shades his eyes from the blinding snow because it’s already accumulated on his lashes and in his hair. He looks sideways at Castiel who grins brightly. “Holy shit,” is all Dean can think to say. “It—snow—how? Cas, did you do this?”

“How eloquent you are, Dean. Did I cause the snow to fall? No, I did not. I’m a guardian angel, not a weather creator.” His voice makes the comment into teasing banter, but his face is sincere when he mentions being a guardian angel. Dean has no idea how to respond to this. Castiel really takes his care seriously. Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders.

“All right, then. Let’s go get some hot tea before I freeze to death out here.” Castiel laughs loudly at Dean’s quick shuffle-walk down the big steps before he comes up close beside him and takes his left arm.

“Are you cold, Dean? Here, please allow me to warm you up.” Cas gently eases his hand up beneath Dean’s coat to massage his lower back. Dean’s breath hisses out through his teeth and he wraps his left arm tightly around Cas’s shoulders, drawing the other man’s face towards his. 

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles, his slightly scruffy chin pressed against Castiel’s face and his thick lips ghosting over Cas’s cheekbones and eyebrows. Cas can hardly breathe from pleasure. He eventually has to gulp in air, gasping as its sheer coldness sears his throat and lungs. His hand grasps Dean’s back convulsively and Dean pulls Cas all the way to him, kissing him firmly, letting Castiel take his tongue because he needs warmth right now. Dean knows just how to kiss that way, so strong and firm and sensual it makes Cas shiver with desire. That could also be the cold air driving snow crystals into the sides of his face, but luckily both of their coats are warm; the only problem is that neither one is wearing a hat or gloves. Everyone else is shuffling quickly through the snow; no one is prepared for this, and there are shrieks of delight as well as shouts of scorn. A snowball fight begins in the distance—someone must have found a place where the snow has accumulated. Dean and Castiel don’t notice, though. They are in their own blissful little world.


	17. Chapter 16

***  
After stopping by the shop for tea and hearing Balthazar wax poetic about the majesty of the season, the weather, and the midwinter show, Dean is almost glad to excuse himself to work on his Latin homework. The semester is winding down, but Professor Crowley is just warming up. His tangible glee at the difficulty of the work makes him appear demonic, and as a result of this Dean has been doing a little bit of research on his own. Actually he’s had Sam’s help because his little brother is an excellent researcher. They have taken to calling one another since at the end of Sam and Bobby’s visit Bobby said, “Don’t be a stranger, kid. Give your brother a call once in a while.” So Dean did, and he admits that hearing Sam’s voice talking about his day has a calming effect on him (plus it keeps him in the loop). Dean asked Sam if he knew of any ways to discover or spells to exorcise a demon—like in the movie The Exorcist, Dean said to cover up the fact that he thinks his teacher is a demon—but he’s not sure Sammy bought it. However, he was able to send Dean in the right direction by telling him about the usefulness of the word Christo and giving him some names of websites that he’d located in Google searches. Finally Dean finds it:

(Exorcizo te, omnis immundus spiritus,  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,  
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

Ergo, draco maledicte.  
Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire,  
Quaeso ut audias me.

Translation:  
I exorcise you, every impure spirit,  
Every satanic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary,  
Assemblies and sects.  
Thus, cursed dragon  
To serve Thee in peace and liberty of thy Church,  
I beseech Thee to hear me.)

“That should do it,” Dean mutters. “If you try anything, Crowley, I’ve got your number.” He puts the scrawled exorcising spell in the front pocket of his Latin notebook, where it is easily accessible. Exhausted from seemingly endless declension memorization, as well as his audition, Dean flops down on the couch and debates whether he should turn in early. His stupor is interrupted when Castiel knocks on the window, bundled up in a hat and scarf because the snow has not let up since this afternoon. Dean grins and waves tiredly before stumbling over to the window and unlatching it. Cas swings inside on a burst of frigid wind, like Jack Frost does in that kids’ movie, Rise of the Guardians—which Dean only knows about because Sam really likes it for some reason.

“Good evening, Dean,” Cas says, shedding his coat and scarf and beaming at Dean with those cerulean blue eyes. 

“Hey, Cas. Sorry, I’m not up for much of anything tonight. I’m beat.” He slouches back onto the couch, rubbing his hands through his light brown hair and across his freckled face. “But at least I’m done with Latin for a little while.” Castiel sits down next to him and smiles.

“That is welcome news, Dean. Are you in need of sustenance? I could provide you with food and drink.” Dean laughs, his hand coming down to pat Cas’s as he turns his head to look in those calm bright eyes. 

“Thanks, man. I could use some coddling right now,” he winks and grins, that charming smile that makes his green eyes glow. Castiel smiles in return and presses a quick kiss to Dean’s eyebrow as he leaps up and goes into the kitchen. Dean raises his head and looks over the back of the couch to see Cas, his dark hair a tousled mess, wearing jeans and a fuzzy sweater under his trench coat that now lies on the arm of the couch. He pads softly over to the cabinets, quietly opening each one and finding just what he needs. 

The fact that Cas knows exactly where everything is, that he moves so assuredly through Dean’s apartment as well as his life, that he is at home... This thought makes Dean grin as Cas comes back over with a pair of warm mugs of cider and a plate of cheese and crackers. He hands one cup to Dean before locating a pillow and blanket—the former to prop behind Dean’s head and back, the latter to wrap around his tired body and warm him up. Tucking one of the blanket’s ends around Dean’s shoulders, Cas pauses and presses kisses to Dean’s cheek and chin and mouth, before drawing away to grip Dean’s socked feet and bare them. He begins to firmly rub the arches and balls, causing Dean to grunt in pleasure. Castiel smiles and gently cracks each of Dean’s toes before kissing all of them. “Hope they don’t smell too bad,” Dean jokes. “I don’t want you passing out on my floor; if that happens, I’d be too tired to help you.” Cas chuckles but says nothing, simply continuing to massage Dean’s feet. Then he starts a trail up Dean’s calves and thighs before returning to sit beside him on the couch. “You fucking tease,” Dean grumbles; but without too much ire—he’s grateful for the snack and the attentions, so he pulls Cas closer to him. They snuggle underneath the cozy blanket on the comfy couch. Castiel massages Dean’s temples with his fingers before pressing soft kisses there. Dean closes his eyes and smiles with pleasure, slowly drifting off to sleep as Castiel nuzzles him. His touch grants warmth and security, two emotional states Dean has not felt in a long while. Experiencing them with Cas is wonderful.


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocking casting achievement

***  
“I’m playing Joseph.” Dean says. “The husband of the Virgin Mary. Awesome.” They stand in front of the theater on the following afternoon, staring at the cast list as it blows in the wind.

“I think it is, too,” Castiel says, his eyes bright. “Congratulations, Dean.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. I was being sarcastic, Cas. I’ve gotta sing about how my wife cheated on me because the baby Jesus isn’t my kid. And then suddenly there’s an angel, poof, and I BELIEVE. How am I supposed to DO that? It just seems shady to me, man. Plus I’m supposed to have chemistry with Mary but I don’t know who she is. Charlie Bradbury. Sounds like a dude’s name.”

“Charlie Bradbury, that’s me, at your service,” a strident voice says behind them, causing Dean to whirl in surprise.

“Jesus!” he gasps. “You scared the shit outta me!”

“Well then you’re all set for the way it happens in the play,” says Charlie, a big toothy smile on her pale oval face. She is several heads shorter than Dean, with long dark red—what is it called? Auburn—hair and the overall appearance of a cheeky mischievous sprite. Cas peers over Dean’s shoulder inquisitively and Charlie smiles at him. “Hi there,” and then when neither of the men answers her: “Well, are either of you boys going to introduce yourselves, or do I need to check your names on the cast list?” She crosses her arms and taps one foot, all sass and attitude. Dean blinks and clears his throat in surprise.

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. And this is Castiel.” Dean shakes Charlie’s hand firmly, caught off-guard so he doesn’t manage to shoot her a charming smile. Cas tries to make up for that by smiling at Charlie and saying quietly,

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Same here, of course. I heard your audition. Both of them actually, and wow, I’m going to have to work on my voice if I’m to sing with Joseph and an angel!” An angel? Castiel’s head whips around. In all the excitement of finding Dean’s part, Cas hadn’t checked the cast list closely for his name, but he peers at it now and yes, there it is—Castiel Goodeson: the archangel Gabriel. There is a slight flutter in Castiel’s chest as he reads this.

“Dean,” He breathes, his blue eyes sparkling with delight, “Dean, I got in! I get to deliver the great news of Jesus’ conception and birth to you!” He ecstatically grabs Dean by the shoulders. Dean takes Cas around the waist and swoops him in a circle without even thinking about it. Charlie steps back a bit so she doesn’t get smacked by any flying limbs, but smiles brightly at the two boys when they are finished celebrating. Dean clears his throat and quickly takes his hands away from Castiel’s midriff. But Charlie doesn’t seem disgusted or put-off. In fact, her twinkling eyes seem to be telling him ‘All right, get it, Dean!’ 

They decide to go to lunch in order to get to know each other better. Castiel politely excuses himself as he has his Humanities class. Dean nods and then yells, “Say hi to Angela for me!” at Cas as he walks away, before chuckling madly for a minute. Dean looks over at Charlie who is smirking in his direction. “What?” he asks her, slightly defensive.

“You are a character, Dean Winchester.”

“Oh really? Is that good or bad?”

“It’s a good thing in this case. I like it.”

Dean has a lot of fun with Charlie. They hit it off and immediately begin laughing and joking with one another. Charlie is a multimedia major, with a specialization in animation—she loves anime and manga and LARPing and all that other crazy fantasy shit that Dean has seen evidence of around campus and instantly decided to stay far away from. Although Charlie tells him that she thinks he’s a closet geek.

“You should give role play a try sometime. You’ll enjoy it! I can see you dressed as a rugged knight, all decked out in chain mail and leather and wearing a big sword…whoof.” She whistles at him and he leans forward and grins charmingly at her.

“You think so, huh? Maybe I enjoy a different sort of roleplay.” Dean winks at her and Charlie grins suggestively.

“Really? I’m fond of that kind too.”

“Charlie Bradbury, are you flirting with me?”

“What, you gonna call the police?”

“Nah, I’ll let you off easy this time, but see, I can’t do that.”

“What, because you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I… what?”

“You have a boyfriend. Castiel. The guy who’s playing the archangel.” It isn’t a question this time, but a statement. Dean’s face reddens. Oh shit, she’s probably one of those religious types who’s gonna say something about me being a degenerate…fuck.

“No, I don’t. I mean, if I did, so what?”

“ReLAX, Winchester! Jeez, you’re acting like I’m gonna shoot you! It’s okay. I play for the other team too.” She gives him a smile. “So see, I wasn’t flirting with you to get in your pants. It was just for fun.” Oh. Oh. Well that’s interesting. Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. What can he say?

“I don’t play for the other team, exactly; I’m just a switch hitter.” Charlie’s eyebrows rise.

“Oho! Can you take the heat, though? Really put yourself out and take a swing—have you got what it takes to find real power? It’s all in the bat.”

“O-kay. Uh, sooo…do you have a girlfriend, then?” Charlie smirks at his embarrassment and quick change of subject. 

“Whoa, Dean, is this conversation making you uncomfortable? To answer your question, no, I am single at the moment. Free as a bird, so to speak. But there are some rather attractive specimens that I’m ready to track. So maybe I’m more of a lioness than a bird.” She roars powerfully, and Dean jerks back, almost falling out of his chair. Several people in the café jump, a girl screams, and one guy nearly busts a gut. “Wow, Dean, did you wet your pants?” Charlie laughs; a merry sound that brightens her whole face and Dean can’t help but laugh too.

“Nope, and luckily I caught myself before falling out of the chair. That would be bad. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“From whom? There’s nobody else you know in here apart from me.”

“Well, then I’d hear about it from you, as WELL as from me. My mind would be replaying the fall over and over again: Dean Dorkchester, world’s biggest scaredy cat, fell out of a chair because his pixieish friend roared right in his face and he couldn’t take it.”

“PIXIESH? You’re calling me a pixie?”

“What, is that a problem for you, Charlie?”

“No, it’s fine. You think I’m a pixie. That’s… nice.” She smiles at him again, a warm sweet smile this time. She’s already glad to have him as a friend, even though they only met that day. Dean feels the same. He smiles back, a full real one that smooths out the planes of his brooding face and just barely crinkles the skin around his eyes. 

“Well, good. I’m actually looking forward to this play thing now that I get to hang out with you.”

“You weren’t stoked before? Come on, Dean! You must have been excited when you first got in!”

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t even really want to audition; I would’ve been fine just doing backstage work. I like fixing things. But Cas told me that I should sing because I have a wonderful voice, and apparently I can’t say no to those baby blue eyes.” Charlie covers a smirk and Dean clears his throat. “Well anyway, everyone else must’ve thought I was good too. But you won’t believe how hard it was for me just to walk out there.”

“Oh no, I know. Believe me. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion and the spotlight is directly on you, and even though you can’t see everyone, you KNOW they’re all watching you and your ears feel plugged up, like you’re under water. Your throat gets so dry you feel like you’ve been in the desert for a year. You’re sweating bullets but your hands are cold and clammy and you’re terrified that you are going to drop and break the microphone. Believe me, I know how you feel.” Dean’s mouth is hanging open. “Shut your mouth, Dean, you’re attracting flies.”

“Holy shit—but that’s EXACTLY how I felt! All of it! Like nothing you said was wrong. Are you a mind reader, Charlie?”

“I might be. Or maybe I’m just a soothsayer. I always speak the truth.”

“Yeah, whatever. But you’re right either way.”

“If you were so scared, how’d you push through it?” Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know; I guess it was because in the heat of the moment, the song meant something to me.” He grins and starts humming “‘it was the heat of the moment / telling you what my heart meant / the heat of the moment / showed in your eyes…’” Charlie rolls her eyes.

“All right, showoff. I get the picture. But how the heck could a song like ‘Demons’ mean something to you? It’s kinda messed up.” She notices that he’s stopped smiling and quickly adds, “Um, no offense.”

“No, you’re right. It is pretty fucked up. I guess…that’s what I feel like when I’m around my father.” Dean clears his throat. He doesn’t normally articulate his emotions, and he didn’t mean to say that. But there is something about Charlie that he likes; something that makes him want to trust her. He doesn’t know what it is, but her eyes are wide-open and serious as she says,

“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry into your personal life. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I can tell you.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. “See, my dad’s a bit of a hard ass. He was in the Marine Corps, which may help to explain it. There are certain things that are true in the Corps, and one of them is family first. Whether that’s your kin or your brothers-in-arms, your soldiers, you never leave anybody behind. You never strike off on your own either, because no one can protect you that way. Love and loyalty and order, always order.” Dean’s jaw pops. He hadn’t realized he’d been clenching his teeth. Charlie gazes at him carefully.

“Those are good things, right? Sounds kind of like the Boy Scouts.” Dean snorts.

“Yeah, but in the Scouts they prize individual achievements as well as group ones, right? My dad’s not like that. When he found out that I’d applied to colleges—and had gotten accepted—he freaked. Said I was giving up my responsibilities to this family; that he’d planned for me to get started in the family business as soon as I finished high school, not for me to walk out on him and my brother Sam. I tried to explain it wasn’t like that at all, but he was already livid. Said I better not expect any monetary assistance from him because he wasn’t giving me a damn dime. And how’d I even manage the grades to get into school? It should’ve been awfully hard with my record… I got into a few fights growing up,” He says in response to her inquiring look. “So yeah, he told me if I walked out our door not to bother coming back. And I should’ve probably just gone upstairs or went for a drive or something to let his anger blow over, but instead I yelled back. Said some stuff…” his voice trails off. “Anyway, I can’t go back now. Can’t even talk to my little brother that much, because Dad freaks out about enough things, and if he gets mad at Sammy for talking to me…” Dean’s face hardens and Charlie shivers. Like Cas, she doesn’t ever want to be on the wrong side of that look. So she gets up and pats Dean’s arm.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it, Dean. And if he doesn’t, that is not your fault. Thanks for trusting me with your story. And it was great to meet you. I’ve gotta go find my roommate now. This is the time we normally study together.” Dean looks at his watch. Shit it’s almost five! They’ve been hanging out at the café for hours! Cas is probably already back at the apartment—Dean already thinks of it as theirs rather than just his—and he may be worried about Dean.

“I’ll walk out with you,” The Joseph player says, putting on his jacket and grabbing his Chemistry book. He’d meant to get in some studying time at the library, but that will have to wait for another day. “Plus, I’ve got to get going, too. Where’s your roommate going to meet you?” he asks as they step outside the door.

“Probably over by the library…oh there she is!” Charlie points and Dean recognizes the black trench coat just as his new friend yells across the quad, “Angela!!!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” mutters Dean. Angela comes over to them.

“Hi, Charlie! I was wondering where you w—oh hello. You’re Castiel’s housemate…Dean, right?” Charlie’s eyes bulge as Dean clears his throat and smiles at her friend.

“Uh, I’m actually just his neighbor, but yeah. Hey Angela.” Charlie slowly points at each of them with her index finger as if trying to connect the dots.

“Wait, you guys know each other?”

“Just in passing,” Angela says quickly. “I was studying for the Humanities midterm with Castiel and Dean came over for a visit. How is he, by the way?”

“He’s fine.” Dean is hoping Charlie won’t mention that he is Cas’s boyfriend—he isn’t sure how Angela would feel about that, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of dealing with feminine tears at this precise moment. “I’ll, uh, tell him you said hello.”

“Would you mind? We need to study together again soon. Ask him to call or text me with a day and time, won’t you?”

“Sure.” Dean’s throat is dry and he’s having difficulty swallowing. “No problem.” Angela beams, her dark hair bouncing.

“Thanks, Dean. I’d love to see him. Well, uh, we have to go study now.”

“Catch you later?” asks Charlie. “Here, I’ll give you my number so we can practice together for the play. Or just hang out sometime. Whichever.” She rips a piece of paper from her notebook and gives it to Dean before winking at him over her shoulder and linking her arm through Angela’s. “Bye!”

“Later,” Dean says numbly as the two girls go skipping across the quad and up to the library doors. He shakes his head and starts to snicker at the ridiculousness of his life and heads back towards the apartment complex. He can’t wait to laugh about this with Cas.


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shocking shit starts shining out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter, and the way Castiel speaks to Zeke as an angel reads awkwardly and randomly to me. If you have any comments or criticisms about this, feel free to post them after this chapter. Thank you. I hope you enjoy the read!

***  
“So guess who Charlie’s roommate is?” Dean asks Castiel as he sits at the kitchen table with his arms crossed. “Go on, guess.” Cas shoots him a half- exasperated, half-amused look.

“How would I know that, Dean?”

“Oh you’ll know. Just do it.”

“Anna?”

“Nope. Guess again.” Dean leans back in his chair and grins.

“I don’t have the patience for this game, Dean.”

“Come on man, how many girls do you know at this school anyway?” He realizes that he’s touched a nerve when Castiel puts a glass down on the island rather forcefully.

“Apparently not enough to satisfy you. I understand that your social circle is larger than mine, but there is no need to rub it in.” Dean looks at his other half with wide eyes and quickly replies,

“Whoa, man, I just meant you know her too. It was Angela. She says hi, by the way, and wants to know when you guys are going to study together again.” Castiel flushes.

“Oh…oh. I am sorry, Dean. I will have to contact her. Thank you for telling me. She—she is Charlie’s roommate, you said? How did you come by information like that so early in your acquaintance with Charlie?” If Dean didn’t know better, he would SWEAR Cas sounded jealous—but no. of course not. Jealousy is an emotion completely alien to Castiel’s nature.

“Well I was talkin’ with Charlie at the café and when we left Angela came over, saying she and Charlie had to study together. That girl really loves to hit the books!” he says with a rakish grin. “Studious as hell; I wish I was like that. Maybe I should ask her for some pointers.” Now he is SURE Castiel looks jealous, but then his face goes deceptively blank again, and Dean is sure he’s imagining things.

“That may indeed be beneficial for you, Dean. The semester is winding down, after all.” Dean covers his eyes with his hands and groans.

“Don’t remind me.” 

“Oh, Sam called, by the way. He gave me a message for you.” Castiel screws up his face as if trying to remember a difficult test answer. “He said to ask if you’d tried the thing yet, and how it went… if he needs to do any more research. Also, apparently Ellen and Bobby went on a date?” Cas now looks like he is having trouble processing information, which makes Dean laugh.

“All right, thanks man. I’ll call him after dinner. Speaking of that, what are we havin’?” Dean loves the fact that Castiel is now so excited to cook—it’s as if those chocolate chip cookies baked with love gave him some crazy cooking superpower, and Dean’s fine with making the most of it. Castiel grins and flings a dishtowel over his shoulder in a way reminiscent of Dean. He leans on the back of a kitchen chair and puts on a faux thinking face.

“Hm. Well, I haven’t given it much thought…but perhaps salmon?” And then the sly bastard opens up the oven door and the fish is just sitting there, pretty as can be. With a fucking garnish of lettuce and cheese for God’s sake and he takes a plate to fill for Dean. Dean, who shakes his head and covers his face while his shoulders convulse in silent laughter until the plate is placed in front of him; then he’s too busy stuffing his face with salmon and salad before he finally gives Cas a thumbs-up. Castiel grabs a plate of his own and sits across from Dean. In between careful bites he says, “Dean, I met with Zeke in the tea shop today after Humanities class.” Cas isn’t sure Dean is listening until he swipes a hand over his face (rather than using a napkin) and mumbles around a bite of fish,

“Yeah? What did he want?”

“Simply to converse with me. He congratulated me on procuring the part of the archangel Gabriel in the midwinter play. Apparently Gabe is very proud that I am to be playing his namesake. Zeke said he wouldn’t shut up about it.” Castiel laughs loudly, his eyes crinkling in crow’s feet the way they do when he is extremely amused. It makes Dean smile as well. “Zeke is to be one of the members of the chorus, and suggested that we practice together if that works with my schedule and is agreeable to me—you—us.” He looks at Dean out of the corners of his eyes to gauge his reaction. Dean sniffs and takes a swig of water.

“That’s fine, Cas. Good. I’ll be running my lines with Charlie anyway, so it’ll be good for you to get some practice too. Then we can sing together here.” Dean can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy, seeing Castiel’s eyes alight with the thought of Ezekiel’s companionship. Which is stupid for several reasons. First, because Dean was the one who TOLD Cas he needed to make friends, and second because Zeke is a cool guy and he helped Castiel GET the part in the first place by playing the piano for him, so it makes sense for them to practice together. Zeke just seems to get Cas, which Dean doesn’t understand—it’s how Sam is; he can just connect to other people’s emotions so easily. It’s both irritating and exhausting to be around people like that sometimes. Dean’s mind is a mix of irrationality and half-suppressed emotions, but his stomach is full of good food and that can take away the awkwardness and jealousy present in any relationship. Plus he’s gotta call Sammy and he’ll have to have all his faculties to bear since he’s sure his inquisitive little brother isn’t just calling for a chat—he wants to know why Dean needed that exorcism spell and when/for what/on whom he is going to use it. He has no idea what he’ll end up saying on that front. He hasn’t even told Cas his suspicions about Professor Crowley yet—he has no decisive proof and without that he’s sure Castiel will think he’s nuts. And he may not be wrong, Dean thinks grimly. He gets up and puts his plate and utensils in the sink before washing out his cup and clapping his housemate on the back. Angela was pretty close to the mark—Castiel pretty much IS Dean’s housemate.

“That dinner was great, Cas. Really great. Thanks.” Cas beams with pride at his ability to make Dean happy simply by making fantastic food.

“You’re very welcome, Dean. It was my pleasure to cook for you.” Dean grins.

“Man, am I glad I taught you how to cook, buddy. Now I’m gonna call Sam so he doesn’t sit up by the phone all night like a teenage girl.” Castiel nods.

“I will clean up the kitchen and thereafter depart if you wish for privacy.” Dean makes a face and waves his hand in a pooh-pooh gesture and his next words bring warmth to Castiel’s heart.

“I don’t need any privacy from you, Cas.” He dials. “Hey, Sammy—Cas said you called me. What’s up?” he listens. “Okay. Sam says hey, Cas, and thanks for giving me his message.” Dean adds over his shoulder. Castiel smiles.

“Tell him I said hello as well and that it was no trouble at all.” Dean nods and continues his conversation.

“He says hello and you’re welcome. So what’s this I hear about Ellen and Bobby? Yeah, I knew it! Go Bobby! Uh-huh. I was sure your smarty-pants brain would be burstin’ for info on that front, so I’ll tell you.” He takes a deep breath, almost a sigh. “I think my Latin teacher is a demon. No, Sam, I’m serious. Yeah, all right, laugh it up fuzzball. Maybe I HAVE been talking to Bobby too much, but I coughed out ‘Christo!’ in class and Crowley’s eyes totally flashed red. He’s also having us do Infernal Chants, and I’m pretty sure that’s not just for exam review.” 

Castiel almost drops a plate onto the kitchen tiles at this. Hoping Dean doesn’t see him, he silently slides to the floor, his breath shallow and eyes wide. Dean can’t possibly comprehend the pure fear that shoots through Castiel at the mention of Infernal Chants. Dean does not fully register their horribleness, but that is not a fault or a wrongdoing. It is simply because he is human. This cannot be true. Castiel thinks. It must not. He’s just a guardian…he is only meant to be a guardian for Dean. He can’t combat anything like this; not without help. Zeke. Cas sits up straight and closes his eyes before tracing a sigil in the excess salt on his plate. He stretches his mind, allowing it to channel into the connection he needs. A feeling of peace washes over him, like music. Not classic rock music, more like classical. Dean would disapprove. But that doesn’t matter; he is not here only to help Dean, now. Not now that there is a demon—the King of Hell, no less!—in the picture.

~Zeke. Ezekiel. I am in need of your help. When the reply comes, with the surety and steadiness ever-present in Zeke’s tenor voice, Castiel cannot help but relax.  
~Castiel. I am here, my friend. How can I be of assistance?  
~The situation…it is escalating.  
~Details. Is it the theatre spirits?  
~No. It is worse. Demons.  
~What?! Castiel, tell me you are not serious.  
~Very serious, I am afraid. As serious as a heart attack, Dean would say.  
~How is Dean? Does he know about this?  
~He is the one who discovered it. I am not sure if he truly believes, but… Castiel lets the comment hang there. Ezekiel finishes it for him  
~…he will by the time you are finished with your work. Castiel nods, his throat tight. He knows Zeke cannot see him, see the clenching of his hands or the set of his jaw, but he sends logical calm through their connection nevertheless. You are going to tell him, then?  
~I must. I cannot lie to him. What could I say? That I am going on excursions with you to study the play music in more depth? He would see through that. And I will need to look at his exorcism spell. Zeke is incredulous.  
~He got an exorcism spell? How? I thought you said he doesn’t believe!  
~I said I am not SURE he believes, but Sam located it for him by doing some research.  
~Good ol’ Sam, Zeke replies fondly. I knew there was a reason I liked that kid.  
~Yes. Well, I hope by liking him you are able and willing to protect him, because he is in this with us now.  
~What? You mean he’s here on campus for another visit? Castiel almost rolls his eyes, another habit he has learned from Dean. Why doesn’t Zeke understand???  
~No, he is not HERE, but he KNOWS, Zeke. He knows about demons and demonic possession, and Sam Winchester is not the kind of human to simply let that knowledge rest. He is on the phone with Dean right now, asking questions. Castiel keeps an ear out, registering the continued conversation so he knows when he needs to cut his own connection short. And knowledge is a powerful thing, if you have enough—just enough to make you dangerous. He pauses, letting that thought sink in. There is a mental click in the connection as Ezekiel understands.  
~You think the demons will put out a hit on him.  
~I do not know for sure, but it is better to be safe than sorry when dealing with their kind. We will have to put a ward around Bobby Singer’s house. Sam stays there many a day. Here is the address. I would go with you, but I will be needed here. I have to make Dean understand— his voice breaks off in anguish. Will Dean continue to trust him? To love him, once he realizes what Castiel is, what he can do, what he has done? His mind is all a-flutter, much as his wings are on a gusty day, but there is Ezekiel who is still connected to him. He sends Castiel his understanding and his conviction.  
~I see. I understand. I will do this service directly. Do not worry, Castiel. Dean will adapt to the situation. He is more resilient than you think. Cas bristles at the insinuation that Zeke has more knowledge of Dean than he.  
~That is not what I am worried about. I know he is resilient. He breaks off, then, quieter: It is that sort of resilience of which I am afraid. When under great emotional duress, Dean shuts off, closes down. He knows what he has to do and does it, but at what cost to his emotional health? Cas was lucky to break through Dean’s emotional barriers and be a witness to his grief on the night of November 2nd. This makes Castiel recognize the delicate balance in Dean’s psyche, of which he is a part. He will not—he cannot disrupt that balance. I must figure out the right way to tell him.  
~And you will. Zeke replies soothingly. I have great faith in you. All will be well, Castiel. Cas’s mouth twitches wryly at Zeke’s mention of faith. If you had no faith in me, we’d be in a much worse situation, he thinks, but is courteous enough to sign off with,  
~Thank you, Ezekiel. Father be with you, and good speed.  
~And with you as well. Be careful, Castiel. Cas ends the connection and comes out of his trance to find Dean staring at him, his face inches away. He looks angry and worried, his hands first stroking Castiel’s knees and grasping his shoulders before clutching his face desperately. It’s as if he’d been shouting for some time.

“Cas— CAS! Cas, can you hear me? Great Jesus God, don’t conk out on me like that EVER AGAIN!!” His voice is angry but his eyes are relieved and he lets out a pent-up breath as he helps Cas stand up from his stiff position on the floor. Cas bends to pick up the plate in order to clean it and nearly stumbles. He has to reorient himself in this body after being in an angelic trance for so long. Dean steadies him, his eyebrows low, still speaking. “I finished talking to Sammy and I didn’t see you anywhere, so I figured you’d gone back to your room or something. But then I come in here to find you Indian-style on the floor with your eyes staring, blank in some freaky deathlike trance and I couldn’t wake you up! Dude, you didn’t tell me you were into meditation!” he laughs weakly as the other man sways. “Whoa, steady there. Cas,” Dean faces him directly, those bright green eyes serious and resolved even as his voice trembles slightly. “What in the hell is going on?!” Castiel lowers his eyes and swallows. He doesn’t want Dean to see him when his entire being is full of agony. He doesn’t want to cause Dean any more pain, but it is as if Dean already knows something about the current situation because his hands clench and then relax on Cas’s arms and he says in a monotone, “Just SAY something, Cas. I’ll understand if you aren’t into me anymore.” Wait. What?

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“You heard me talking to Sammy, telling him about Crowley being a demon, and now you think I’m touched in the head, so you were meditating, getting into a ‘good place’ like that shit teaches so you could dump me nice and easy, let me down so,” He slams his palm down on the kitchen table, fingers digging into the wood. “Go ahead and do it.” Castiel nearly lets out a breathless laugh. Dean has it wrong, so so wrong…

“You have it wrong, Dean. I believe you.”

“What?”

“I believe you. About the demon. I know it is real. I know about the Infernal chants…and what they are used for. We have to stop him. Exorcise him with that spell Sam gave you. I heard that part. But the other demons will fight to stop us. Crowley is their king, and he is using your Latin class to summon the denizens of Hell and bring them up to Earth. I should have seen it before,” Cas mutters in an undertone before locking eyes with Dean for a second time, willing him to see the truth in his expression. “I am telling you the truth, Dean.”

“Whoa.” Dean is backing up, shaking his head and slicing his hands through the air. “I really got that wrong.” He laughs in a helpless hysterical sort of way. “You’re way crazier than I am.” No. Oh, no. He is freaking out again.

“Dean…”

“No—stop talking, Cas. I know I’m fucked up, always have been, but you—you made me think that you weren’t. You were the normal one. Well that proves how messed up I am, to think anyone—sane—would put up with me for this long.”

“Oh just STOP IT, DEAN!!” Cas is suddenly shouting, his deep voice at a timbre that Dean has never heard before, and it actually halts his rant and makes him back into the kitchen counter. “I am SICK AND TIRED OF YOU THINKING SO LITTLE OF YOURSELF! YOU ARE NOT CRAZY, YOU ARE NOT FUCKED UP, YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND HONORABLE AND DECENT AND GOOD…” Castiel pauses, his chest heaving with emotion. “And of all the human beings I have ever met, I believe in YOU, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean is staring at him with a thunderstruck expression on his face. He looks like he either wants to punch something or cry because there is a manic brightness in his eyes. 

“What do you mean, ‘of all the human beings you’ve met’? Cas, you’re human too. If I’ve gotta stop giving myself so much shit, you’ve gotta think of yourself as a regular person.” Castiel bites his lip and shakes his head.

“But I’m not, Dean.”

“Not what?”

“I am not a human being.” Dean rolls his eyes and puffs out a hard laugh.

“Stop bullshitting me, Cas. That meditation trance was pretty impressive, and so was the booming voice stunt, and I get now that you’re not breaking up with me and you believe that demons are gonna start crawling out of Hell because of my Latin teacher, all right; but don’t tell me you aren’t human— I’m not gonna put up with it.”

“I’m not,” Castiel says helplessly, tears brimming in his eyes. The revelation wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “I’m an angel. I’m your angel, Dean.”

“Bullshit.” Dean shakes his head.

“Remember the night of November 2nd? You asked if I was truly a guardian angel, if this was something you could believe in.” He moves forward and Dean shifts away slightly, still shaking his head. It’s hurting Cas, ripping his heart wide open, but he continues anyway. “I said that if I was enough empirical evidence that I would always be here to watch over you.” When Dean turns away and freezes as still as a statue, Castiel comes up behind his right shoulder and says fiercely, passionately: “I meant every word.”

Dean’s fist clenches and his jaw pops. Don’t do this to me, Dean, prays Cas. Don’t break my heart—don’t disbelieve—though my essence is that of an angel, my heart is a human’s to break. Don’t stop loving me, Dean. Please.

“So when you said you were just a guardian angel and not a weather controller, when we were outside the theater—that wasn’t a joke, it was legit?” Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t see, isn’t looking at him, can’t look at him, won’t—oh please don’t let it be won’t.

“Yes. That was true.” Dean takes a shuddery breath through his teeth.

“Dammit, Cas, I thought—when you said that shit, I thought you were just joking or being metaphorical or whatever. That you were just yanking my chain…but it’s true. It is all true. I have a demon for a Latin teacher. At least THAT makes sense with the kinds of tests that Crowley gives.” He chuckles darkly. “But this—” he whirls on Cas, making the other man jerk backwards in instinctive surprise— “This I just don’t understand. You’re an angel. Why didn’t you TELL me that?!”

“I did tell you. You just didn’t believe me.”

“But you KNEW I wouldn’t believe. That I thought—that I think religion is crazy.” Dean shakes his head and jabs his finger into Castiel’s chest. “So this—this is not your body, these muscles and this skin and this hair and those lips and those eyes…they aren’t YOU. You were just playing at being human. Why would you come here??” He shouts suddenly. “It obviously wasn’t because this school ‘has more to offer in education’ like you initially said. Don’t angels just KNOW shit? Or am I misreading the bible again?” his voice has become cold and carefully, horribly detached. Castiel had thought he’d been prepared for this. He thought he had known what to say to keep Dean with him on the same emotional level. It is probably best to correct this misconception now.

“We only know that which the Lord wants us to know,” the angel says. Dean jerks his head up and down wildly.

“Oh, of course! I forgot that part, silly me. So those absentee parents or PARENT you told me about, that was God? You were telling me sob stories about your childhood being ignored by GOD?! And about history and home ec, what the fuck was that?”

“I…I pieced together human lives to explain as well as I could the jobs I had in Heaven.”

“Human LIES, you mean!”

“Please, Dean…”

“NO! I am trying to wrap my head around this and you still haven’t even answered my question! WHY. ARE. YOU. HERE?!” He is breathing hard now, standing an inch away from Castiel’s face. His freckles are standing out stark upon his cheeks because his face is so red, and his eyes are so green. The contrast would be funny in any other situation. Cas swallows hard, wishing to stroke Dean’s face and kiss him and calm him down, but he’s pretty sure none of those courses of action would work in this situation. So he simply sighs and answers,

“I came here for you, Dean.” This actually makes Dean blink and step back a pace. Castiel is at last able to breathe.

“For me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because we have work for you.” He knows as he says these words how Dean must feel to hear them. He knows Dean now as well as he knows himself, and he knew how he felt when he was initially told about his mission and what he feels saying it now. Anger. Resentment. A dash of fear. And this time, strongest of all, an outpouring of love and sorrow from the broken pieces of his heart. But if Dean experiences any of these emotions, he masks them in inscrutable calm, licking his lips to moisten them and giving angel Cas human heart palpitations.

“How did you get here?”

“I flew. I have wings, Dean, like it says in the Bible. Human senses are just too dull to perceive them.” Cas smiles, trying to lighten the mood, but Dean just spreads his legs until they are shoulder-length apart, folds his arms across his chest, and stolidly stares Castiel down.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me your wings. If you really are an angel, then show me.” 

Castiel knows he can make no argument. And he doesn’t want to. “All right.” He steps back, to the other side of the kitchen island, which now stretches like an endless dark ocean between him and Dean—a yawning interminable gulf that cannot be breached…no. He must stop that terrifying train of thought. Castiel squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. Lightning flashes and thunder booms, causing Dean to glance out of the window with wide eyes. His eyes grow wider as he swivels back to perceive Castiel’s wings (because the angel had brought their existence into the plane of human perception)—enormous, black, feathery, and splendid. Cas raises his head and the wings spread upward and outward in an ostentatious display that can only be described as peacocking. Holy shit. He really is an angel.

“You really ARE an angel.” Castiel bows his head and the strange light dies, once more obscuring his wings as Dean collapses into a kitchen chair.

“Yes. That is what I have been trying to tell you, Dean.”

“Well excuse me for my lack of belief. You have wings, Cas. Holy shit. You have wings!” Castiel can barely hide a smile.

“Yes, I have had them all my life.”

“Damn.” Dean shakes his head slowly from side to side in wonder. “All this time I didn’t know… ‘Now I’m a believer! / Not a trace of doubt in my mind!’” He hums before blowing out a low breath. “If you came because you have work for me, was any of this—” he waves his hand expansively at the two of them, the remains of their dinner, the kitchen, the entire apartment; finally (and most importantly) ending up with his arm pointing at their conjoining windows, “Was any of it real?” Castiel closes his eyes for a moment. Then he takes another chair and plants it directly in front of Dean, who flinches, as if he expects Cas to smite him. Then he is calm and cool once again, appraising the angel with new eyes. Castiel sits and leans forward. He must get this right. He must ensure that Dean knows how much he means to the angels, the world, but most especially to the heart and soul of this angel in particular.

“Yes, Dean. This was all very real. It has been the most tangible time, the truest experience…and the happiest that I have ever felt—in my entire existence—has been here with you.” The angel’s eyes are tearful and sincere even as he curses himself for being so inarticulate. He is usually GOOD with words! Fumbling for the proper amount of sentiment is normally Dean’s job. This is evidenced as Dean nods jerkily at Castiel, clenching his jaw and looking down at his lap. Dean smacks a hand on his knee, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“Well. All right then. That’s that.” Dean clears his throat before looking back up into those electric blue eyes that hold such love and sorrow and fear.

“Yes.” Castiel says, low, subdued. It is over now. He has done it. But he will never be prepared for what happens next. “That is that.” His heart feels like a bowling ball, sinking low to weigh down his legs and feet; the sheer awful heft, bulk, load, and burden of it makes him feel as if he is descending directly into the Bottomless Pit. He can hardly stand up again to push in the chair, leaning over the table because every ounce of strength has fled his body. The immense angelic strength of a warrior of God has gone. It is now held in the hand and the heart of the human being next to him. Ludicrous, really. The old Castiel would have laughed at it. Actually, Dean would probably have laughed if he had known from the beginning what Castiel was, and then Cas would just smile softly in response. He straightens his back and stands, pushing off from the table with his hands… 

And pivoting right into Dean’s arms, which have just appeared behind Cas along with the rest of him. Dean Winchester, glorious as always in his soft worn leather jacket, is crushing Castiel in a fierce embrace, his head nestled beside Cas’s at first, but when the angel gets over his surprise enough to press a hand against Dean’s back, his posture shifts and Dean’s hand comes to hold the side of Cas’s neck and cradle his head, stroking his hair as Dean moves his face backward far enough to regard Castiel. He looks deep into those blue eyes, as fathomless as the Marianas Trench, the deepest part of the sea—endless eyes; and Dean thinks for a fraction of a second that those eyes should’ve been the deciding clue that Cas was an angel, but then that fraction is gone and they are kissing. 

Castiel is in heaven. This is his true Heaven: being with Dean, who has at last recognized what Castiel is and has forgiven him for hiding it. He still loves me, Cas thinks, dazed and dizzy. Zeke was right; all will be well…just as soon as we send the demons back to Hell.


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which supernatural shit starts to get (more) real...

***  
Apparently demon-fighting is difficult for anybody, but it is nearly impossible when the people doing it are untrained and inexperienced; (“Sorry,” Dean says with a snort, “If I’d’ve known demons existed, obviously I would have watched Devour and played The Inferno until I was aces at all this shit. As it is, my inexperienced ass is all you’ve got.”) He’s pretty good though, athletic and coordinated, with lightning fast reflexes and the ability to think on his feet—which is vitally important in these circumstances—or so Balthazar says at the beginning of a play rehearsal. At least that’s what Dean had thought it was, until the director / TA / tea-obsessed machiatto maker starts spouting off tips on how to trap demons if the ability to exorcise them isn’t immediately at hand. 

“Is EVERYone an angel around here?” Dean yells after Zeke admits grudgingly that he, Balthazar, Michael, Anna, and even Gabe are angels—

“Though it should’ve been obvious about Gabe, I mean, he has the same name as the angel in this play,” Anna teased, and Dean whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at her.

“Shut up, please, Anna, I’m still trying to deal with the fact that all my friends have been lying about their identities. What, is Benny a fucking seraph or cherub or some shit?”

“No. Actually he’s a vampire.”

“What the FUCK?!?” 

“Oh no, now you’ve done it, Anna. Dean? Dean slow down, it’s all right; you’re going to be okay.” Zeke gives the others a quelling look and puts a steadying hand out towards Dean in concern. Dean just shakes his head and waves Ezekiel off vehemently.

“Hell yes I know I’m okay, which is a miracle, obviously, because there aren’t any other normal humans at this school! This is like some Children of Dracula shit. I am not prepared for it.” He rolls his shoulders back and shuts his eyes for a moment before saying, “Okay. I can roll with this. No big deal.” He points over at Garth, who has been quietly talking to Charlie backstage. “What about HIM? Please tell me Garth is normal.”

“Uh…no, he’s a werewolf. But Charlie is human, and Angela is too,” Cas says.

“That’s awesome. Really, just great. Fucking fantastic. Two entire humans in this place apart from me.”

“Why am I hearing discord and din? Dearie me, that’s not the way to stage a Christmas production,” comes a sibilant slightly sing-song voice from the back of the house. Balthazar groans.

“LIGHTS! Lights up in the house, please! Darlings, could you be a bit more punctual when we have guests?” he calls as the lights finally come up on a tough-looking motorcycle chick with short choppy blonde hair. Trailing slightly behind her is Angela, who had told Charlie she wanted to see a rehearsal of the play. All of the humans are in one room. Great. Dean has a feeling there is something unpleasant going on, and he’s right—from Zeke and Cas’ simultaneous intakes of breath, Dean can tell they are in trouble. Something is up with this choppy-haired girl. 

“This is my friend Meg,” Angela introduces her. There is a faint whistle from backstage right as Charlie spots the new girl. Uh-oh. Dean can already tell that interest is a bad move just by Castiel’s initial reaction.

“What is she?” he mutters. “Demon?” Cas nods.

“Yes. Just a foot soldier, though. A black-eyed demon, the least powerful.”

“Oh. Okay well that’s great. How are we gonna kill her?”

“We can’t just do that! Think, Dean. She could be mapping out this place, checking to see if it’s safe for her demonic cohorts when they are summoned. How many Infernal Chants has your Latin class spoken?”

“Um…two so far. Professor Crowley wanted to ease us into it, he said.” Dean’s face burns with murderous rage. “That son of a bitch conjured two fucking demons in one class period! In the time we have left for the semester, he’ll probably call down the whole fleet!”

“I doubt that,” another voice purrs from stage left. “But it’s entertaining to watch your mind work. There’s another player in this game, trying to raise Hell against Crowley. It’s gonna be a hell of a fight.” There is a chuckle at her wittiness, and one of the backdrop swingers and assistant stage managers, Ruby, peers out from behind the fly curtain at Dean, her eyes alive with mischief. And they are black as onyx. Jet. Coal black.

“You—” Dean rushes at her, but she’s too quick for him and pins an arm across his chest, slamming him to the wall in their scuffle and grabbing his neck with her other hand.

“Now, why don’t you take it slow, huh? The way you’re swinging your arms and hollering, it looks like you just climbed off the short bus. I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, I can see that when you’ve got your fingers crushing my throat…short bus,” Dean chokes out.

“So sorry,” she smirks before releasing his windpipe. “But listen to me, Dean Winchester: not all demons want the same thing. I like this body and I like it here. I don’t want a bloody war screwing everything up.” The lithe girl flips her blonde hair for effect and purses perfect luscious lips, her vessel’s sculpted eyebrows cocking over eyes green-grey as a stormy sea. She’s muscular, too, scrappy in a fight as she’s just shown, smacking Dean into the wall so hard he cut his lower lip with his teeth. Slowly she lets him all the way down until his sandals touch the floor. (Jesus sandals, or Joseph sandals, apparently; Jesus hasn’t been born yet. He can’t believe he’s wearing these damn things; thick straps of hemp and leather; they scream ‘hippie’ at anyone who sees them; but back to the matter at hand) Dean sneers at her.

“Well why would you be telling me all this, bitch? I thought demons hated humankind.” Her lips rise up away from her teeth in a snarl as she grips the front of his shirt again and pins him to the wall tight,

“Some of us remember that we used to BE human, dick.” She abruptly lets go and gives Dean a charming smile. “That’s your cue,” she adds, slapping his rear. “Remember what I said, Winchester. If you ever get your head on straight, I’ll be back here. Though it seems like there’s small chance of that,” she adds in an undertone, as Dean has spotted Castiel, dressed in his angelic robes and fidgeting nervously. Apparently angels don’t actually wear tiny white togas in Heaven, but Balthazar was fine with taking a little human liberty, or so he said. Dean doesn’t have anything to complain about, even though he had heard Cas muttering to Ezekiel when Zeke was helping him oil up and tie on his toga:

“This is degrading,” Castiel was muttering, out of sight of Dean. “Father would be scandalized if He saw me wearing this.”

“Then let’s just hope He isn’t watching right now,” Zeke whispers back.

“Buggeration and fuckery!” Balthazar spits out articulately. 

“Damn the British,” Dean groans good-naturedly—well, as good-natured as he can be whilst keeping a suspicious eye on a good-looking demon lady. Ahem.

“Where are my two chorus girls? They must have gone to the salon an hour ago!” Anna stifles a laugh.

“Balthazar, you’ve been had. If those girls went to a hair salon, they’re probably not coming back to rehearsal.” 

“We cannot halt the play because two ladies cannot take theatre more seriously than frizzles and fringe!” The director bellows, stomping around in front of the stage. “Castiel needs to do his angelic dance, and there must be two ladies at his sides or…”

“It’ll be idiotic, Gabriel twirling alone onstage, comPLETEly unrealistic.” Gabe himself broke in. “I would never do that.” Zeke shoots him a loaded look. “I mean, if I was an angel, which of course I’m not.” Still trying to be incognito, obviously—Gabe isn’t that great of an actor, but Dean has to hand it to Castiel; he could have sworn his beau and Zeke, Anna, Michael, and Gabriel had never known each other before that meeting on the quad. (As a matter of fact, Castiel HADN’T known much about Anna, Gabriel, and Michael before he met them in their human guises; it was only Ezekiel he had been close to whilst in Heaven.)

“We can do it,” calls a voice from the audience. Behind Dean, Ruby snickers.

“Ooooh—this is gonna be interesting,” she murmurs. Dean looks on with horror as Meg—choppy-haired demon Meg—climbs onstage with poor defenseless human Angela in tow. Balthazar does his best not to look overly shocked, and Castiel’s face is inscrutable. Dean wants to shout at all of them but Ruby grips his arm. “Patience, grasshopper,” she counsels. “Meg isn’t gonna try anything this quickly. She gets attuned to details, likes to understand her victims intimately before doing anything…untoward to them.” Her voice makes Dean shiver and he jerks his arm away with a scowl. “So grumpy!” Ruby chides. “You’ll see. Just keep an eye on her and you’ll soon know I’m right. And then, if you decide you do want my help…” she retreats over to the fly for the backdrop “…you know where I’ll be.” Dean nods tersely, silently vowing never to ask the smug demon for her aid. Who knows if she’d even keep her promise?

Zeke plays the initial notes on the piano and from upstage right comes Castiel, and though his true wings are still hidden, he has about him an angelic grace that steals Dean’s breath away—though part of that could be the spotlight brought up to bear on his dark curls as he halts center stage and sings in his rich sweet voice: “‘It came upon the midnight clear / That glorious sign of old / Enraptured secret sign of fear / In brave disguises…’” Soft lights come up over the audience and Meg and Angela move up, Angela hesitant, Meg confident as Cas walks stately down into the audience to meet them. “‘Old shoes and thirty feet / The prophet’s sight of prophecy / I resign to petty things / Like angels bending on their knees…’” he sings. The two girls come close to him, Angela’s smile brilliant in the spotlight as Cas inclines his head in her direction. Dean watches carefully as Meg comes up to his other side, but if Castiel is repulsed by her, he doesn’t show it. Instead he rather gallantly offers her his arm as they sing in a round:

“‘Do you delight / Do you delight / In me? / I laughed about it / Come to me now / Come to me now /And bring / That rapturous moment / I wasn’t changed / I wasn’t changed one bit / Though you may doubt it; / I don’t suppose / I don’t suppose / You’d care / To ask about it.’” 

This stuff is a little too slow and religious-y for Dean’s taste, so he contents himself with watching Castiel’s prominent hipbones sway into view as he moves his pelvis in a way reminiscent of Dean’s own dance moves, making him smile with pride and pleasure.

“If there’s one way to tell that somebody is into you” comes a quiet voice next to Dean’s ear, “it’s that they mimic little traits of yours and remember things you’ve done.” He readies a punch and stifles a yelp, but it is only Charlie.

“Son of a bitch! I told you not to sneak up on me, Charlie!” 

“Sorry,” she grins, not seeming sorry at all. “I just wanted to get a closer look at that new girl. Meg, right? Mmmm I like the way she moves.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Charles—”

“What? You’re allowed to admire the ass on that angel, but I can’t look at the bust of this babe? What kind of bullshit is that?” 

“It’s not bullshit…” It’s for your own good, Dean wants to say, but how would he get Charlie to believe him? No, it’s better to just watch out for her like a normal friend would. Plus he can’t help laughing at her alliterative choice of words. “Well, you better get all your looking in today because she’s not gonna be here for very long.” Charlie scoffs.

“What, you think Vera and Hailey are gonna come back? Please. I had them pegged as washouts the minute I saw them audition, giggling the whole time, not paying a lick of attention to getting anything right. If they hadn’t ditched this rehearsal, Balthazar would have gotten fed up with them soon enough anyway. I bet he’ll capitalize on Meg and Angie’s willfulness. See?” Zeke has just finished playing the music for the first number and Balthazar is beaming at the two girls. Dean almost thinks he’s being sincere with his effusive compliments. Great. He sticks out his tongue at Charlie as she gives him a smug look. “I’ll go congratulate Angela on nabbing a part and get her to introduce me to Meg. Give you time with the incoming angel.” She jerks her head at Castiel, who is heading over to them, and gets swatted by Dean for her trouble. With a wink and a cheery “Hi there, Castiel!” Charlie heads off to flirt with the demon. Dean watches her go with worry in his eyes.

“Greetings, Charlie,” Castiel replies to her before coming up to Dean, who is trying desperately not to look at the angel, or risk becoming distracted from his mission to discover what demon Meg is up to. This is difficult as the costume Cas is wearing shows a good amount of skin and is rather tight as well. Damn it, Balthazar. It’s pretty obvious the smarmy Brit has had a hand (or both of his hands) in this, though Dean has no idea what his motive is… “Hello, Dean,” the dark haired angel interrupts his thoughts.

“Hey Cas,” Dean utters. “You did good.”

“I look ridiculous,” The angel moans. “This costume is extremely inaccurate. No one wears tiny white—breechcloths—in Heaven.” Dean snorts.

“Well, it’s a pretty prevalent inaccuracy, Cas. Every piece of art I’ve ever seen with angels in it has them wearing it.” Castiel looks crestfallen at this news, which makes Dean continue their conversation by joking, “So what DO you wear? Clown suits? Heh Sam would piss his pants.” The angel gives his human paramour a puzzled look.

“No—that would be even more embarrassing and demeaning. Why would your brother dislike it if angels dressed as clowns?”

“Sammy hates clowns. He’s been terrified of ‘em ever since he was a kid.” Dean shakes his head and smiles ruefully, remembering those many fateful Halloween nights he’d have to calm Sam down after he’d hyperventilate at the mere sight of clowns. There was always a creepy one in the haunted house, and don’t even get him started on ‘It’. That damn movie was on TV all through the month of October and Dean would have to deal with Sam coming to find him in the middle of the night to be comforted. He didn’t really mind making Sam feel better, though. It was his job as the big brother, after all. There was never a time that the comfort he gave did not work.


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early-morning caller requires comfort.

***  
It’s 2 o’clock in the morning when Dean’s cellphone rings. He gets out of bed and curses quietly, moving around the piles of discarded clothes to locate his jeans. Where the hell had he put them? Cas has taken to folding Dean’s clothes and carefully placing them on top of his dresser and chair, because for some reason Dean’s cleaning habit only extends to taking care of the kitchen and living room, not his personal wardrobe. Dean looks over and grins at the form of Castiel, who is curled up in a nest of blankets and sleeping like a log. Angels don’t sleep, obviously, but Cas has gotten good at going into this sort of meditative trancelike state that looks (and sounds) an awful lot like sleeping instead of the creepy glassy-eyed one that Dean had first seen; that stare Cas had was weird as hell and Dean had almost screamed when he saw it, but contented himself with punching Castiel and making the angel swear never to do it again. Dean finally finds his jeans draped neatly over the easy chair. He grabs his phone and hits the ‘TALK’ button right before the answering machine cuts on, and slides into the jeans so as not to freeze his ass off in a pair of boxer briefs. He tiptoes out the door into the hallway and then walks quickly into the kitchen before speaking.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dean?” It’s Sam’s voice on the phone, and Dean figured it would be Sam because no one else would think of (or want to be) calling him in the middle of the night. What he DIDN’T expect was the fact that his brother would sound breathless and terrified.

“Sammy, is everything all right?” He knows it isn’t immediately after he says it, knows with a sinking lurch in his gut that this is not gonna be a good day. 

“No, Dean. No it’s not. I—I had a dream, where, oh God you’re gonna think—you’ve got to help me, Dean, I think I’m going nuts!” Hearing the panic in his little brother’s voice makes Dean’s stomach lurch.

“No you’re not, you’re fine, okay Sammy? Everything’s okay. Listen to my voice. You’re awake now. Just try to calm down. Tell me what happened whenever you can, okay?”

“Okay.” Sam takes a deep shuddery breath. “I…I was at this bar, this place I’d never been. No one carded me to get in, which was weird, because I KNOW I don’t look any older than eighteen at the most. Even though I am big. Anyway, some-some guys got in an altercation with—”

“Altercation?”

“A fight, Dean, jeez. I thought you were in college!”

“It’s two in the fucking morning, Sam. Excuse me for not having a dictionary beside my bed. Continue.” Dean swears he can HEAR Sam roll his eyes.

“Fine. This man, he got in a fight with another guy, but it was weird, like, he knew all the other dude’s moves before the guy made them, and when the bouncer tried to grab him to throw him out of the bar, the bouncer kind of froze, and the weird guy just walked right past him. I followed him out—me in the dream—and I saw him head down this alleyway that was dark and deserted until there was suddenly a single streetlight that flickered on and this little girl was just standing there. She was about eight I guess, with blonde pigtails and wearing a cutesy dress. The guy went up to her and said  
‘Are you lost, sweetie? Do you need someone to take you home?’ The girl smiled really creepily before speaking in this sing-song voice:  
‘Drop the act. I know what you are.’ The guy made a swift movement and the little girl laughed. ‘Don’t think I won’t do it. Now where is he? Where is Crowley?’  
‘I’m not telling you nothin’’ the big guy said and then I saw her raise her hand and—I’m not kidding about this—her eyes flashed pure white and then he rose up and hit the wall before letting out this truly horrible scream.  
‘You tell me, or I beat it out of you and then you die,’ she was completely calm while flinging him around the alley. ‘Your choice.’ She threw him down right in front of me and he muttered something really quietly—I couldn’t make it out, though; he might’ve just been choking and gargling on his own blood.” Sam takes in a gulp of air and continues. “The homicidal girl leaned in and smiled at him again before whipping out a knife as long as her arm. ‘See you in Hell,’ she hissed and suddenly his throat was cut and this burning flicker-y orange essence died out of his eyes and mouth. She—she licked his blood off the knife, and…and then,” Sam can hardly control his gasp-y sobbing, “S-she looked up at me and said, ‘Look at that, Sam Winchester. Take a good long look and decide what you will do. Do you really want to get mixed up in this? It will be a bloodbath, and I am going to win either way. Your brother and his friends won’t be able to stop me. And neither can you. So sorry Sammy baby, but it looks like your mom died for nothing.’ And that was it. Then I woke up.” He is silent for a minute. “Dean?” Nothing. “I know it’s crazy…” and when there is still no response from his big brother, “Dean, please say something.”

“That—that is super creepy.” Way creepier than clowns. Dean swallows hard and tries desperately to make a joke out of it. “You had one messed-up dream there, Sam. Did you eat tacos for dinner or something? You know what that does to your stomach, kid.”

“No, I did not eat tacos for dinner! Dean, this is serious. I think someone is going to die—or has died already—and his blood is on my hands!”

“What, because some freaky eight-year-old killed a guy and talked to you in your dream? You must’ve watched Men In Black recently, maybe that was it. Was she carrying a quantum physics book?”

“NO, Dean. And this wasn’t like a normal dream; it was—different—somehow. I’ve had a few like it before. Just—the other ones weren’t quite as intense.” Sam sighs and clears his throat. His gears are turning madly; he’s desperately trying to figure out how to explain this to Dean in such a way that he will be believed because this is really freaking him out. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, causing bright lights to burst behind his eyelids. He’s too tired for this. 

“What do you mean you’ve had dreams like it BEFORE? You’re just telling me about this NOW?!”

“I knew it would worry you, Dean, and I didn’t want to do that unless I thought you could do something. But the girl mentioned you and your friends trying to stop her, so I wanted to know…Dean, is there something going on that I should know about? Does it have anything more to do with that Latin exorcism I found for you?”

Shit, kid, you know sometimes you’re TOO smart. “You don’t want to know about this, Sammy,” he says instead. “Just stop asking. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“But that’s just it; it DOES have something to do with me, Dean! That’s obviously why I had this dream. Whether she meant to scare me off—and I admit, she’s doing a pretty good job—or if it somehow means I can help, then maybe I should drive down there.”

“No, Sam, you don’t need to jeopardize your education for this, man! You’re a junior in high school, just…just concentrate on your classes so you can get a scholarship to college, all right?”

“I can’t! I haven’t been getting much sleep the past few days and I want to know that nothing bad is going to happen to you, Dean. If this—whatever this is—if it’s a premonition or whatever, I have to help. But if you tell me that nothing is wrong then I’ll take sleeping pills and go to all of my classes and work my butt off.” Sam breathes hard and waits anxiously for his big brother to answer. Dean is taking a long time.

“Dammit, Sam,” There is a pause “I don’t want to get you mixed up in this, but there IS something going on. No listen, Sammy,” Dean heads off his brother’s impending exclamation, “What my friends and I are doing is dangerous; shit it’s crazy, but Cas says it is important to the fate of humanity.” 

“Cas? What does he know about humanity’s fate, Dean? What are you guys DOING?”

“In a minute, Sam. First tell me something. Did this man…did you happen to get a good look at HIS eyes? What color were they?” Sam thinks and is silent for a moment.

“I’m not sure, because it was dark, but when he left the bar he looked around and I could swear his eyes were completely black. I thought that was just the shadows, but,” Dean has taken a sharp breath. “It’s obviously not. Dean, what does the color of his eyes mean?”

“It means he’s a demon, Sam. More of them have been summoned than we originally thought. At least, one more has. Did you get a look at the name of the bar? Any license plates on cars? Where was your dream located?”

“I told you it wasn’t a normal dream, Dean.”

“All right, your dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream, then?” Dean gets up and rummages through one of his kitchen drawers, looking for a piece of paper. He jumps across the table to grab a pen out of his backpack and knocks a chair to the floor. With a curse he whips around and of course there’s Cas, rubbing his eyes and shuffling blearily into the doorway. He obviously doesn’t come out of his nighttime trance until Dean knocks over chairs. Damn it. Dean had wanted to wait until he was sure of SOMEthing before telling Castiel about this. Obviously that isn’t going to happen—the angel has seen something in Dean’s face and has filled a glass of water and placed it on the table in front of him before sitting down in the chair Dean just righted. Fuck. Well, it can’t be helped now. “You still there, Sammy?” He asks, getting some minute reassurance from hearing his baby brother’s voice. Sam has rallied and is listing everything he saw in his dream vision to Dean. He jots down the words as quickly as he can, scrawling haphazardly across the scrap of paper he’d located. “This is a good start. I’ll work on it. Yeah, you can too, little brother. Just make sure you get some sleep first. Yes, I’ll call as soon as I figure anything out. And you might want to stay with Bobby for a few days. I’ll call you there. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” He flips the phone closed and drops it onto the table before gulping down the entire glass of water. “Sorry to wake you up, Cas,” he groans. “What a night this is.” Castiel stands up and refills Dean’s glass before sitting down across from his significant other once more.

“I do not mind, Dean. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I was just talking to Sam. He, uh, he just had this dream, or vision, or something. There was a black-eyed demon in it getting pumped for info on Crowley, and I have a feeling he told his torturer where Crowley is. I don’t know if what Sammy saw is real, but if it is we’ve got more demons to deal with.” Castiel has stiffened and his eyes are like blue chips of ice.

“Did Sam see the torturer? Who was it?”

“Yeah, he saw her. But Cas, it was a little girl. How messed up is that, man, for a demon to possess a kid?” Castiel interrupts him.

“This demonic girl’s eyes—were they white?” Dean slowly lowers his water glass and his own eyes grow wide.

“Yeah, pure white. Sammy says she looked right at him. How did you know?”

“Because I know her, or at least of her. Her name is Lilith. She was Adam’s wife, and became a demon because she tried to be greater than him. This is bad, very bad. What did she say to Sam?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. She was married to Adam? Like, the first man Adam? Guy who ate the apple Adam? I thought he was married to Eve?”

“He WAS. Lilith was his wife first, before Eve was created. She was formed from a bad batch of earth and the Lord had to get rid of her, so he sent her out of the Garden before she could poison Adam with her dangerous way of thinking.”

“What, so being a strong woman is a dangerous way of thinking? That’s kind of misogynistic, Cas. What does it matter what she said to Sam?”

“It matters because she is trying to corrupt him, Dean. The same way she meant to corrupt Adam. Please tell me what she said.” Dean sighs wearily.

“All right, she said that he should take a good long look at what she did and decide whether he really wanted to get mixed up in it. Um, then she said it was a bloodbath that she was going to win either way and that none of us will be able to stop her. I don’t know how she knew what we’re planning to do. The last thing was the worst, though.” Dean clenches his fist and slams it into the table, trying to control his temper. “She said, ‘So sorry Sammy baby, but it looks like your mom died for nothing.’” Dean’s voice rises in fury. “How does that demon bitch know anything about my mom? What did she mean, of COURSE Mom died for nothing! The fire was an accident! I don’t understand… Cas, what is it?” The expression on Castiel’s face makes Dean’s anger dissipate as quickly as it had flamed.

Castiel looks up at him, his eyes large with compassion and his face pensive and grave. He scoots forward in his chair and takes Dean’s hands in his own.

“Dean, what I have to say will be neither easy for you to hear nor to understand.” Dean snorts.

“Well, there’s been a lot of that goin’ around tonight already.” Cas doesn’t quite manage a smile, he can only shake his head.

“Yes, and with that in mind, it may be best if I show you.” He gazes steadily at Dean. “Do you trust me, Dean?” He is afraid that Dean will not; after all, Castiel had hidden his true identity from his beloved for months. Thus the angel is duly surprised and gratified when Dean busts out with:

“Yeah, of course I do, Cas. You told me you were an angel, after all. That took guts, especially if you were sure I wasn’t going to believe it or that I’d try to get you sent to the nuthouse.” He laughs grimly. “Why do you need to know that?”

“Because of what I have to do to explain the meaning behind what Lilith said to Sam. Showing is the best way, and so…” he leans even farther forward and touches the first two fingers of his right hand to Dean’s forehead.


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a blast from the past... Part 1

***  
Dean jerks himself upright. He must have slumped forward in his chair, but he isn’t sitting at the kitchen table anymore. No, he is on a park bench being accosted by a police officer.

“Hey buddy, you can’t sit there.”

“What?”

“You can sit anywhere but there. But make sure to put on a shirt before you go back to the bar.” He obviously takes Dean for a drunkard because of the fact that Dean has just shot up faster than lightning and is now stumbling around like an idiot without a shirt, despite the fact that he is only 20 years old. What the hell is happening to him? Where is Cas? Where is HE?!

“Sure, officer. No problem. I just have to get home if I can…uh, where am I, exactly?” The police officer shakes his head disgustedly.

“I sincerely hope you didn’t drive here this morning if you’ve been drinking that heavily. You’re in Lawrence, Kansas, of course.” 

Dean stares numbly after the policeman as he walks away. Lawrence, Kansas. His home until he was 4 years old, when…when his mother died. Wait. Cas had said he was going to show Dean what Lilith had meant when she’d spoken of their mother to Sam. But what was being transported to present-day Lawrence going to do? His mom had been dead for sixteen years; never mind the fact that he had just been TELEPORTED ACROSS THE COUNTRY by his angelic boyfriend. Dean rubs his eyes vigorously. He needs to find shoes and a shirt before he can think this through any further. Why hadn’t Castiel thought to get him dressed up before sending him here? Dean walks quickly out of the park and jogs across the road, almost being run over by…no way. It’s his car. Well, obviously not HIS car because it’s not being driven by either Bobby or his father, but it’s the same make and model: a 1967 Chevy Impala. He leaps out of the way and can’t help whistling admiringly. The Impala slows down and its driver cranks down the window. He’s a young man with dark hair and a large smile, roughly Dean’s own age. 

“Hey there, buddy, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t even clip me. That’s a gorgeous car you’ve got.”

“Thanks. And I’m glad I didn’t hit you, but that’s not really what I meant.” He gestures at Dean’s unusual attire. “Rough day?” Dean laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah it sure is. I don’t know what I’m doing here, and my apartment is at least 600 miles away so I can’t just walk there to put on some clothes, and I don’t have any with me. Not my wallet either. Jesus Christ Cas, is it too much to ask to at least hand me my wallet before zapping me across the country?!”

“What?” The young man looks at Dean quizzically. Dean shakes his head.

“Oh, um, it’s nothing.”

“All right, hang on just a sec and let me park this thing. You seem about my size, and I’ve got a few extra sets of clothes in the back to change into after work. I’m a mechanic, so my first set is sure to get greasy and I want to look good for my date tonight.” He smiles and sticks his arm out the window while the car is still idling. “I’m John, by the way. John Winchester.” WHAT?!

“…I’m Dean. Dean, uh, Van Halen.” Dean shakes the proffered hand but can’t say anything else; he is barely able to get those few words out and winces at his choice for a last name. Van Halen? Really?! Super smooth. But of course he can’t tell his father that he is also a Winchester.

“Nice to meet you, Dean. Just wait right here while I pull into that parking lot and then I’ll bring you a shirt and shoes.”

“Th-thanks.” Dean stutters and stares after the car—it IS his car—as it drives away and turns left into the lot beside the general store. Dean’s brain seems to have short-circuited. He turns around and jumps about a foot: Castiel is standing behind him, absurdly well-dressed in a shirt, pants, shoes, and his trench coat. This makes Dean’s voice even sharper when he snaps, “What the hell is going on, Cas? What am I doing here? Why didn’t you have me get dressed first? So I could meet my DAD in Lawrence, Kansas?! Is that really him??? Do you angels have a bunch of DeLorians stashed somewhere?” Castiel puts a firm hand on Dean’s arm.

“We don’t have much time, Dean. Your father is going to come back. And yes, that is him. I have brought you back to 1987 in order to explain what Lilith said about your mother. Time is not a straight line as most laypersons think; it is fluid and ever-shifting. You will be unable to alter history, Dean. I did not bring you here for that, but only to observe and thus understand the path your family has taken.” Dean’s jaw pops as he swallows hard and focuses on the ground.

“So I can’t—I won’t be able to save her? She’s still going to die in…ten years?”

“Yes she is. I am so sorry, but I cannot alter the past, Dean. It could do irrevocable harm to the future. I must depart now, for your father is returning. I will be nearby, though. Do not worry.” Then he is gone in a blink, a flash, though there is no light or poof or whirring sound, just a whoosh of air like a single flap of the angel’s great black wings. Dean swallows hard and furiously wipes his eyes before turning back to face his father.

“Hey, Dean,” says John Winchester as he walks up. “I found an old KU sweatshirt in the backseat; I would lend you a collared shirt any other day, but like I said, I’ve got a hot date tonight.” He holds out the sweatshirt and an old pair of sneakers. “Hope these smell okay.”

“Thanks…John. Thanks a lot.” Dean yanks the sweatshirt over his head and kneels down to tie the shoes so he doesn’t have to look directly in his dad’s smiling face as he queries, “Who is this date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Her name’s Mary. Mary Campbell. And she’s the most wonderful girl in the world. So strong and sweet and unafraid to say what she thinks. Funny and smart and with a secure job in her family business that she can’t wait to get away from…imagine. A beautiful girl with a great job locked down and the ability to be with anyone and do whatever she wants in the world…” he stops and rubs the back of his neck, wearing a silly grin, “…and this girl has chosen ME. She loves me, a mechanic from a family of mechanics. No wonder her father doesn’t approve.” He laughs slightly and Dean stands back up. He knows that laugh and the look that goes along with it—he sees it often enough in the mirror. It’s the look that attempts to make a joke out of a painful situation, to mask the fact that he feels inadequate and to fake the feeling of deserving the compassion and/or approval of others. Dean can’t stand it that this young, hopeful, open, HAPPY young man is going to become his bitter and jaded asshole of a father. It is almost more than he can bear. He sticks out his hand to John for another shake and says seriously:

“Well I for one think she’s a lucky girl. Thanks for loaning me your clothes. How do you want me to get them back to you?” His father grins at him, embarrassed in the same way Sammy always gets, his face turning red and his eyes trailing the ground, looking everywhere but at the person who gave him a compliment. It makes Dean smile. John clears his throat.

“I really appreciate that, Dean. You don’t have to worry about giving them back until you get on your feet and reach your apartment again.” He slaps Dean on the shoulder and smiles. Dean has to force himself not to flinch. He cannot believe it—his father is hitting someone as a joke. “Hey, I’m gonna grab a coffee at Rusty’s Diner. You want me to get you some breakfast?”

“I can’t take any money from you,” Dean protests.

“Oh come on, you listened to me moon over my girlfriend and you’re wearing my smelly shoes without complaint. Plus you like my car, and I’ve got a soft spot for anyone who appreciates Baby.” Dean can’t help grinning.

“Oh hell yeah, ’67 was a great year for cars—and trust me, she’s still gonna purr this sweetly when she’s 40.” The two men turn and walk into the diner together.


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blast from the past... Part 2

***  
Dean feels like a stalker. A creepy, vaguely incestuous stalker, because he’s standing in the lengthening shadows outside of Rusty’s Diner watching his parents on their date. Watching his mom mostly, the way she tosses her head back when she laughs, those sparkling brown eyes warm and glowing with love as she gazes at John… Dean cannot help but mutter, “Sam, wherever…whenever you are, Mom is a babe.” Then he freezes, horrified at the words that have just escaped his mouth. “I am going to Hell.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” murmurs a voice behind his right shoulder. Dean has gotten more used to Castiel’s silent entrances now, and so he simply moves to the side to allow Cas room to look in the window as well. “They appear to be enjoying their time together,” the angel remarks after peering in. “You have a loving family, Dean. It does not hurt to remember that.” But it does. Of course it does, because his mother is now gone. And seeing his parents so happy in this time period makes him truly realize how much his father lost because of his mother’s death. Dean feels Castiel’s hand curl around his own and give a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes back. The two of them stand silently for a moment watching John and Mary chat. It looks as though their conversation has become rather serious, and when Mary rises to go to the restroom Dean realizes why: his father takes out a tiny red box with a ring.

“Holy shit, Dad’s gonna propose!” Dean gasps. He turns and realizes that Castiel has disappeared again. He must not be able to use his angel magic for an extended period of time. Another hand grasps Dean’s shoulder and whirls him around, slamming him into the wall. Before he can react, a sucker punch connects with his gut, and it is only Dean’s quick reflexes that prompt him to strike back at his assailant with his own fists, and it is pure luck that allows him to connect. A flash of blonde hair fills his vision as an arm slams none-too-gently against his throat and pushes his back hard against the bricks. Dean’s eyes have shut reflexively, but he opens them to see the stone-cold face of his nineteen-year-old mother inches away from his.

“Okay, I’m only going to ask this once,” she growls in a voice filled with more danger than Dean had EVER heard from her when she was alive. “Who are you and why are you following me and my boyfriend? Are you a shifter? Wendigo? Werewolf? What?”

“More like a ghost,” Dean cracks, because what is he really, other than that? An echo from the future, a shadow that can walk and talk but cannot change anything that is going to happen? It’s not the correct thing to say, though, because Mary immediately unsheathes a knife from her boot and holds it to his neck. 

“Know what this is? It’s pure iron. And I will gut you with it unless you tell me what you’re doing here.” She isn’t fucking around, and Castiel has disappeared. Just great. Dean doesn’t know how he can get out of this, but his mother obviously believes in and knows how to get rid of ghosts. And since he has never been given any proof that his mom was certifiably insane, as well as the fact that he and a host of angels are planning to fight off a bunch of demons in the present time, Dean decides to play this off. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” he asks her, because that is the only word he can come up with that even begins to somewhat accurately describe all of the—things—she knows about. Anything to get her to put that knife away…and miracle of miracles, the word “hunter” does. Mary tucks the iron blade back in her boot sheath and takes her arm away from her son’s jugular vein, but still keeps him pinned to the wall.

“What’s that to you?” God, his mom is tough. Dean’s never envisioned a life where she would need to be violent, but he definitely approves of it. Mary Campbell is a badass. 

“It’s okay. I’m a hunter too. I’m here trying to save you.” Oh shit, why had he said that? Cas told him it wasn’t possible, that he couldn’t interfere, he was only meant to observe—shit he’d fucked up.

“What’s after us? Is it here? I haven’t seen anything.” Her brown eyes are careful and her face is solemn and firm, instantly taking stock of what she needs to do to protect her family and John.

“I don’t think it’s here yet. Be on the lookout, though. Have there been any deaths around here? Any Latin teachers chanting strangely? Strange smells, like rotten eggs, for example? People with pure black eyes?” A jolt of shocked recognition flits across Mary’s face.

“You don’t mean demons? I didn’t think they actually exist…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. And I know they do.” It’s worth a shot; Lilith is a powerful demon, right? And she knows something about their mom AND Sam, so obviously a demonic occurrence happened to Dean’s parents sometime in 1987 and it was the catalyst for that seemingly accidental house fire ten years later. Maybe I am smart enough to be in college after all, Dean thinks in surprise. He is jerked back to the present—or rather, the past—when his mother speaks to him.

“Okay. I’m going to cut short my date with John and you’re going to follow me home so that we can talk to my father about this demon.”

“Hey, I don’t want to mess things up—”

“Well it’s a bit late for that, but it isn’t your fault. John will understand. I’ll tell him that my stomach is hurting or something. ” She begins to walk away.

“Wait, you’re gonna lie to him? He doesn’t know what you do? Who you are?” Dean is, he thinks, rightfully incredulous, but his mother stalks back up to him and once more gets in his face.

“What was your name?”

“…Dean.”

“Listen, Dean, my personal life is my business. And I don’t care who you think you are—some guardian angel or savior or whatever coming here and creeping up on me and my date because you THINK there’s a demon after us—our lives outside of this incident are none of your affair. And don’t think for a second that I have to trust you just because you’re a hunter. There are plenty of us around, and my dad doesn’t trust anyone who isn’t family. I’m going to withhold judgment on you just in case you’re right about this demon, but don’t presume to advise me about my life.” With that Mary returns to the diner and to John, who has been looking anxiously about for her and rightly so. She says something to him, lovingly yet terse; and he gets up, leaving a tip on the table. He’s not angry at all, only concerned about her, and Dean watches in amazement this man who is so like and yet so unlike his father. Uncanny. 

“And speaking of uncanny things, the fact that your mother mentioned you in connection with a guardian angel is both ironic and ludicrous,” says Castiel’s amused voice from the shadows. He steps up to face Dean, with Dean’s leather jacket held out like a peace offering, and smiles. Dean rolls his eyes but accepts the jacket nonetheless. “I must take you to your mother’s house.”

“Yeah, and about that, Cas, is it really so ludicrous that my mom called me a guardian angel? Isn’t there something about time’s fluidity that can make whatever is gonna happen NOT happen?” Castiel regards Dean with infinite compassion as he shrugs his jacket on. Oh how much Cas wishes he could change time, bend it to his will, spin the entire world upon his finger just so that he can hold Dean close and make him happy forever. Alas, there is no such instruction in the cosmic order. The angel cannot bear to explain this; he does not wish to depress Dean further. So he simply takes the now leather-sheathed arm of his beloved and guides him down the street. They walk together through streetlight and sky shadow to the neighborhood Dean has nearly forgotten yet still knows so well, and see John kissing Mary goodnight on her front porch—Dean’s old front porch, because that was their house, is their house, “This is Samuel and Deanna Campbell’s house currently,” Castiel articulates. 

“My grandparents,” Dean whispers. “I’m going to meet my grandparents—the ones who died before I was born. No, this is just too weird. I feel like this is too weird. Is it too weird?” He paces back and forth in the darkness, watching John pull away in Baby and then seeing Mary bite her lip and peer around for him, to invite him into her house to talk to her father about a demon…yeah, this is really strange. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it, Cas. I want to help them, but I can’t because of time and I bullshitted the fact that I’m a hunter of supernatural entities to my mom, and if she doesn’t smell a rat her father certainly will; my GRANDFATHER, Cas, and my parents; I’ve met my parents before they were my parents…” Dean is officially freaking out and Castiel knows he has to go through with this no matter what, so he takes Dean’s face and kisses his mouth shut, kisses Dean so firm and strong that Dean can’t find his voice, kisses him fiercely to stop his panic attack; and then the angel steps back and pushes Dean towards the house. Mary spots him and nods at him to come in. He gives her a halfhearted wave before turning to look daggers at his angel who has, of course, disappeared once more. Great; for the meeting with his grandparents and mother about a demon, Dean Winchester is effectively on his own.

“So you’re a hunter, huh? I don’t trust other hunters. I don’t work with other hunters. Even if there IS a demon in these parts, and I don’t believe for a second that there is, why on earth would it be after my Mary?” Samuel Campbell is a hard-bitten man, cold and strong; with piercing eyes that seem to stare into the heart of you and don’t like what they see. It’s a dead ringer for Dean’s father—his future father, because 21-year-old John Winchester is really cool—and that gives Dean the guts to use some of his own ammunition:

“That is an excellent question, sir, and I’d really like to tell you, but see, I don’t trust other hunters either.” Mary coughs into her napkin, and Dean can swear he sees a sparkle of laughter in her eyes. His grandmother, Deanna, (there must be a shortage of names in this family) hurriedly offers to refill the plates. Samuel waves her away, but Dean takes her offer gratefully and eats his food heartily. He remembers having to go without food for days so he could feed Sammy, and eating a home-cooked meal made by his grandma, well, there is no way Dean would ever pass that up in the future OR the past. 

Samuel humphs and looks hard into Dean’s eyes before turning to his daughter. “Mary, why did you bring this boy here?” Mary sighs.

“I told you, Dad, I was on a date with John and noticed him outside the diner. Dean said he was trying to protect John and me. Both of us. Apparently this demon focuses on specific people.”

“And do you know WHY he does this?” Samuel snaps at Dean.

“Actually, I do.” Castiel had given Dean a crash course in demonology—information on this specific yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, in particular—and he also remembers the conversation he had with Ruby, so Dean is ready. “Demons don’t always want the same things. Some want to make deals with humans to kill them and send them to Hell, but others…” he thinks of Ruby and her wistfulness, “remember what it’s like to be human. And then there are those that don’t kill their dealers—no, they allow them to live on certain conditions. The demon I’m after is one of these. He targets young families, or people that are soon to be families,” and Dean looks sideways at Mary when he says this. She gasps and blushes slightly. Her father is quick to notice this and rap out,

“So! You’re thinking of marrying this boy, then?”

“This boy, Dad, is a veteran of the POW search in Vietnam and he’s got the biggest heart you could ask for.”

“He’s a mechanic.”

“So what? Would you rather I married someone like him?” she nods at Dean, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Even the hypothetical idea of marrying his mother is just too wrong to contemplate.

“No, no, not me, no.”

But her father’s silence says it all. Mary balls up her napkin and throws it on the table.

“I see, Dad. Well, my choices are not your choices or Mom’s choices. I want to live my own life with John because I love him just the way he is.” Mary stands up and looks over at Dean. “I apologize for exposing you to this familial unpleasantness,” she says. “But I want you all to be aware of my decision. If you’re going to protect me from this demon, you’re going to have to protect John too.” She stalks out of the room and Dean can hardly contain his admiration. He helps Deanna clear the table, earning himself a pat on the cheek and whispered thank-you from her when they enter the kitchen. Samuel has stalked out of the opposite end of the dining room.

“I’ll work on Sammy,” she murmurs to Dean as he scrapes rice off of their dishes. It’s strange to hear his pet name for his little brother in this woman’s voice. “Why don’t you go speak to Mary? I respect her choice though she may not know, but it is best not to leave the supper table angry. Actions like that make people hasty.” She gives Dean a significant look, and he realizes what she is trying to say—Mary means to run away! She will leave behind the smothering safety of her nuclear family to begin a new life with John Winchester. And though he greatly admires her for it, Dean does not want her to be hurt, and he believes he can save her, no matter what Castiel says. There MUST be a way to change time so that she will live again! He thanks his grandmother and goes quickly into the front room. His worries are ever-so-slightly assuaged when he sees Mary sitting in a chair. She hears him enter and looks up laughing lightly, the exact same way Dean himself acts when he doesn’t want anyone to see him cry. He wants to hug her, but figures that may not go over too well, and so contents himself with coming over and patting her on the shoulder. She looks down and away from him as she swallows, before turning and taking his hand as if about to make a pledge. Dean can tell she has something serious and important to say.

“Dean, can I tell you a secret?” Dean nods. “I want out. Of this job, of this life…I want to live normally with John, the wife of a successful, sweet, wonderful mechanic. I want a family. I wanna be safe. The worst possible thing I could think of—the very worst thing—would be for my children to grow up in this life.”

Well, you got your wish for my first 20 years at least, Dean thinks. But now I’m helping a group of angels fight off a horde of demons two weeks before Christmas while my little brother wakes up crying from demonic dreams. Oh, God, Mom, I’m sorry. Dean swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion, and Mary notices him cover his eyes with the hand wearing his silver ring—his mother’s silver ring. His mom who died when he was four and who he is seeing again here, the mother he still misses so much. Dean doesn’t know if Mary has seen the ring, but he doesn’t want to frighten or hurt her any more than he already has, so he clenches his fist and drops it to his side.

“Hey,” says Mary softly, noticing the look on his face and the tears in his eyes. “Hey, Dean, it’s gonna be all right. I promise. You and Dad can work together—he’s impressed with you, I can tell—to keep this demon away from John and me. I’ll get John to take me away for a while so the demon won’t know where to find us. Everything is going to be okay.” Dean clears his throat and decides to do this. He has to. She’s comforting him and yet she doesn’t know the half of it.

“Mary,” he says hoarsely. “Mary, can I tell you something?” 

“Of course,” she replies. “What is it?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy and that this is a really weird thing to say, but just promise me something—please, on the morning of November 2nd, 1997, don’t get out of bed. No matter what happens, what you hear or see, just promise me that you won’t get out of bed.”

At first she smiles, but then, realizing how serious he is, Mary feels a nameless fear grip her heart and she knows what she needs to say. “I promise.” Dean closes his eyes and nods jerkily, his breath expanding past the emotion that has tightened his throat.

“Thank you, Mary. That’s all I can say. But I think you should stay here tonight. Don’t run away with John just yet.” Her eyes widen; of course she didn’t know her idea to leave immediately would be that obvious to her mom and that Deanna would in turn mention it to Dean. 

“How did you know that I was thinking of running away right now, tonight? Who ARE you?”

“Someone who cares about you and wants to help you. Just please, stay here.”

“I can’t—if I don’t leave now, I may not ever be able to. My father is so over-protective he may lock me in my room to prevent me from seeing John again. He hasn’t had a concrete reason before this, but now that there is a demon with me in its sights…” she shakes her head. “Don’t you understand? I have to get out of here. You know, Dean, sometimes you have to do what’s best for you, even if it may end up hurting the people you love. I just hope that some day my father will understand.” There is a familiar rumble outside the house and Mary’s head whips around. “That’ll be John. You don’t have to stay out here with me, Dean. Just go back in there and tell my parents that I left and you couldn’t reason with me.”

“No, I’m not going to leave you unprotected. I’ll stand outside and watch over you until you get in the car with John, okay? Then you’re on your own with him. It’s your life. I’ll just tell your dad I didn’t think it was my place to get in the middle of family business.” Mary smiles and rises on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then she grabs her jacket and a bag and rushes to the door with Dean right behind her to hold it open. John is leaning on his car, but he rises and comes forward at the sight of Dean’s silhouette standing behind Mary. His face looks set and hard, more like the John Winchester of today, at least until he sees Dean’s face in the light from the porch’s bare bulb.

“Dean! Hey, buddy! What are you doin’ here with my Mary?”

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Mary’s head snaps back with attitude. John smiles sheepishly as she looks at him askance.

“We met early this morning. Dean was having a hard time in town, so I bought him some coffee and lent him my sweatshirt. But it looks like you’re doing okay now; at least you’ve got yourself a nice jacket.” Dean had forgotten about that. Castiel’s care was going to get him into trouble.

“Oh, yeah I did. Do you want the KU shirt back or—?”

“Nah, man, keep it. I don’t think I’ll be back here for a while. You ready, honey?” Mary nods and abruptly wraps her arms around John, who looks startled before he returns the hug. “Hey, Mary, are you okay? What’s goin’ on? How did you meet her anyway?” John’s voice is still calm, but he is starting to look suspicious. Now THIS is more like the present John Winchester. Dean doesn’t know what to say, if he can say anything…

“Oh, Dean is my cousin.” Mary sniffs and looks up at John. “I didn’t know that he was coming into town to talk to my dad about the family business, and I haven’t seen him in a long time—so when I noticed him outside the diner tonight I freaked out and got a little paranoid. That was the real reason I cut our date short, baby, I’m sorry.” John looks from her back to Dean with a smile returning to his face.

“Oh, that’s fine! Man, I wouldn’t’ve been sore, Dean, if I’d known you were part of Mary’s family.”

“That’s all right. I wanted to surprise her, and I guess I did.” He looks at his mother with a small smile on his face. His father doesn’t know how close to the real truth Mary’s lie is. Neither does she, and Dean finds all of this super strange. “Plus I got the real scoop on her when you didn’t know who I was!”

“John!” Mary gasps and smacks her boyfriend’s shoulder. “What did you tell him?”

“All good things, I promise.” John says with a grin. “Don’t worry.” Dean laughs and raises his arms in supplication.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna get him in trouble. He said you were the sweetest, most intelligent girl in the world and he’s lucky to have you. I agree, and I think you guys are perfect together. Don’t worry about your dad,” Dean directs at Mary. “I’ll figure out something good to say when he asks where you are. Take care, you two.” John shakes Dean’s hand and Mary gives him a quick hug.

“Tell him I went to visit Beth. Beth Wiltshire. Even if he doesn’t believe it, at least he won’t be mad at you for letting me run off with this ruffian.” Mary looks adoringly at John who gasps (kiddingly) when she calls him a ruffian.

“You’ll have to have a beer at the house wherever we end up,” John says to Dean as he opens the passenger door for Mary. Dean hands over her bag.

“Thanks, John. I’d like that. But if all goes well with work talk tonight, you won’t have to see me again, at least not for a long time.” Mary nods at him in understanding as John simply looks confused. “Drive safe.” Dean waves as John gets Baby in gear and pulls off of the curb and into the road. Watching their taillights recede into the distance, Dean turns around carefully to spot any passing cars that may be following his parents, but all has gone silent.

“This is for the best, Dean,” comes the disembodied voice of Castiel as Dean turns and walks back up the Campbells’ driveway.

“Maybe it is,” Dean mutters, “But that doesn’t mean I hafta like it. Is this all I have to see? Are we going back to the present now?”

“No,” is the angel’s quiet reply. “And I am truly sorry, Dean.”


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blast from the past... Part 3

***  
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Dean opens the door to see Sam Campbell’s furious face glaring at him, and then his grandfather pushes past to look out at the street. 

“Where is she?! What’s happened to her? Mary!” he bellows. 

“Sam, please calm down,” admonishes Deanna. “The neighbors will hear.”

“I don’t give a damn about the neighbors! I want to know where my daughter is! That demon took her, didn’t he? Either that or she went off with the Winchester boy! Well??”

“Neither one, I think, sir. She said to tell you she was going to her friend Beth’s house.” Dean feels really bad lying for his mom to his grandfather. But he’s not going to back out. “I told her it would probably be better for her to stay home tonight but she didn’t want to hear it. I got out here in time to see the car pull away.” Which was true; it was exactly when the car had pulled away that was the issue, but he chooses not to say that to Samuel.

“Beth Wiltshire. Well, at least I know where she is. Dammit Mary, if you had stayed here I could have made sure you were safe! Did you see the color of the car, boy? What make and model was it?”

“Uh…it was dark blue or black. Either a Chevy or a Ford, by the sound of the engine.” Samuel grunts. 

“All right, I’m going out there. We need to move fast, in case the demon is already on her tail. Deanna, get some rifles loaded up for us.”

“Us?”

“You’re coming with me, kid. You said you were a hunter, well, now is the chance to prove whether you’re any good or not. If you help me save Mary, I might actually trust you. If that demon hurts her, well, you’re gonna answer to me.” He holds open the door for Dean, who can’t help looking around for Castiel again. In case he can’t help this man, well, he just won’t make it back to the future. The angel is nowhere in sight, though, so he follows his grandfather. There was a special gun that Castiel had mentioned, a Colt that would kill anything it shot. And since Dean hasn’t yet memorized the exorcism he got from his brother, he figures that gun is the next best bet. But when he mentions it to Samuel, the old man finds this idea laughable. “I’ve never heard anything true about that gun, kid. Most people in the life have chalked it up to a fairy tale. Nice try, though.”

Dean lets it go. He doesn’t want to tell Samuel Campbell anything about Cas, because it will just sound absurd. Plus, seeing how the man is with regular people, there is no earthly reason to think he’d be pleased to see an angel. He would probably waste valuable time trying to hunt Cas down and Dean would lose whatever ounce of the guy’s respect that he had. So they simply get in Samuel’s truck and head out to the Wiltshire farm, leaving Deanna at home worrying. Dean feels bad for her and hopes he can keep her husband and daughter safe. How safe Dean will be when Samuel finds out that Mary isn’t at Beth’s house is anybody’s guess. Dean just hopes Castiel hasn’t deserted him for good. 

When they get to the house, Samuel is already tense because apparently there is one car too many at the Wiltshire place. “Beth’s husband has been sick, though, so it may just be the doctor. Mary probably wanted to make her less sad. Apparently she says Beth will do anything to save her man.” Dean begins to get a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Anything?” The way he asks it makes something clear to Samuel too and he curses.

“I’ll go straight up to the door and ask about Mary. You scout around, and if you see anything, shoot first and ask questions later, understand?” Dean nods with eyes wide. He’d heard his father say that a million times before, but now it registers in a different way. He remembers his dad teaching Dean to shoot when most kids were busy with little-league baseball. He thinks about his dad being gone all the time and never saying exactly where he went, those long nights alone with Sammy in hotel rooms watching old movies. Maybe his dad had known what his mother feared most, choosing to keep her sons out of the life she had left even as he went into it. Why would his dad choose to become part of the hunter life, though, unless… Dean cuts off his train of thought and runs to the side of the house, watching his grandfather walk up to the front porch like he has all the time in the world. To him, he probably does, because there is no reason to think that his daughter won’t be there. Until now; a girl comes to the door who Dean assumes is Beth and she shakes her head when Sam asks if Mary is around. 

“Only Dr. Browne is here today,” she said. “Jake…he’s getting worse.” The doctor comes to the door behind her, a short stocky man with brown hair and glasses. Dean can’t tell much else about his face because he’s far away, peering around the side of the house; and anyway, there are more interesting things in his line of sight. Like the dead grass in the fields, or the fact that all the animals—dogs, cows, pigs, chickens—are crammed into the last stall in the far corner of the barn. He doesn’t even need Cas there beside him saying,

“Dean, something is wrong,” before he hears shrieks and the sound of a gunshot and then he is running full-out up to the house with his gun at the ready because he’s not gonna let his grandpa down and he has to save his mom. Dean bashes through the door to see Beth burying her head in the cushions of the couch and his grandfather grappling with Dr. Browne, who has gotten rid of the gun; it looks as if it has been bent in half and thrown across the room. Dean doesn’t know what made his grandpa sure that the doctor is the demon and what got it to break Sam Campell’s gun, but Dean is nevertheless already clear on the situation even before he yells,

“Samuel!” and the demon’s eyes flick to his. They are a sulfurous yellow and the look of pure cold hatred in them makes bile rise in Dean’s throat. He gets a shot off but it doesn’t connect in the head, just the shoulder. However the doctor screams out a funnel of thick black smoke, making Beth scream really loud once more. Dean shoots the gun again, although he’s sure it isn’t doing anything. The smoke rises in a whirlwind and throws objects around the room, forcing everyone not lying on the floor or dead to duck and cover. The smoke finally disappears and Dean goes over to his grandfather, who looks resigned as well as a little dazed, but still has the presence of mind to place his fingers on the doctor’s neck before shaking his head at Dean.

“He’s gone.” Beth has stopped screaming and seems to be lumping all of this into a really messed-up dream and says she is going to go and check on her husband. Before she does so, Dean asks what the doctor had wanted of her; Beth answers flatly,

“He was crazy. Kept saying that if I made a deal with him he could save Jake, and all I had to do was give him permission.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know! The guy was insane! Who knows what a nutjob like that would give my husband as medicine. I’m going to go check on Jake and call the police. I’ll tell them it was a violent home invasion; that the doctor thought I wasn’t going to pay for his services and started to get physical with me, so I shot him. You two just take that gun and get out of here. I hope you find your daughter,” she adds to Samuel. “Mary’s a good kid. She probably just ran away with her beau last night and they’re still on the road.” Beth shoos them out the door, and Dean wonders admiringly if all women in the 80s were as tough as Beth and his mother are. He becomes morose again when he realizes that they have not killed the yellow-eyed demon. He’s still out there, and that means he is still after Dean’s mother.

“You did well in there,” Sam Campbell says as he and Dean go back to his truck. “Not too many people could pop off a shot like that at a moving target.”

“Yeah, but I missed the head shot. The demon isn’t dead. That black smoke that came out means he escaped. And it means he’s still after Mary.” Samuel sighs and clears his throat.

“You really can’t take a compliment, can you, kid? I’m trying to say that I was wrong about you. That’s all. You did well, Dean. I’m proud to stand next to you and call myself a hunter.”

“Oh. Thanks, Mr. Campbell.”

“Call me Samuel. I realize you already did back there.” and he gives Dean a tiny wink. Dean feels his face flush.

“Well, I had to get you to move and ‘Mr. Campbell!’ doesn’t roll off the tongue that easy.” His grandfather laughs, the crinkles around his eyes looking a lot friendlier.

“Of course. I’m not judging ya.” They get back to the house and as he unlocks the door, Samuel mutters: “Now I’ve got to go find my daughter.”

“But Mr. Campbell—Samuel—we’ve got to get rid of that yellow-eyed demon first! Since he just exited the doctor, we might still have time to find him before he can settle down inside a new host. This time I won’t miss.”

“Listen, Dean, I think it’s admirable that you take to hunting this way; I wish I could have gotten Mary to relish it like you do, but let’s face it: the demon is gone. And to be honest, I’m not really sure he’s after my daughter. Maybe you just got a little overexcited.” Dean leans the gun against the wall and comes to lean forward with a fist raised in frustration as Samuel slumps exasperatedly into a chair at the empty dining room table.

“NO! Sir, I’m telling you the truth! Look, there’s a reason I was here tonight, and a reason I know for sure that yellow-eyed son of a bitch is after your daughter. This is gonna sound crazy, but you’ve got to believe me, okay?” Samuel follows Dean’s example and also leans forward, meanwhile beckoning for the young man to sit down next to him at the now empty table. Deanna isn’t here; she has probably gone to bed or is out looking for her daughter. Either way, Dean wishes she WAS here—it may be easier to get through to her the real reason he knows all about her daughter. “Listen, Samuel. My real name is Dean Winchester. Your daughter is my mother; I’ve come back from the future because she’s…she’s dead there. She dies ten years from now in a fire this son of a bitch started, I’m sure of it, and I know he’s not dead now because he’s the one who kills her! Something is gonna happen to her so she’ll make a deal with him, and I have to stop it! I have to save her, she’s my mother! You’re my grandfather! I know it doesn’t make any sense, but please, you said you were wrong about me before. Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying to you right now.” Samuel stares intently at him before leaning back and letting out a long slow breath.

“Call me crazy, kid, but I’m inclined to believe you. No one else will ever believe though…especially since you’re trying to kill me.” Samuel’s eyes flicker from their normal blue to bright sulfurous yellow, and Dean jumps for his gun just as he is flung into the air and slammed into the far wall, getting the breath knocked out of him. Samuel, or the yellow-eyed demon now, stalks toward him, chuckling under his breath. “Ooh I had you fooled! When I told you I was proud of you, and you were so happy, now that was diaBOLical!” He laughs and licks his lips. “What kind of Houdini act got you here, huh, kid? You’re just a regular hunter, I can tell that right now. You don’t have the power to bring yourself back in time. Someone else brought you here; someone who obviously can’t stay too long because their power would attract attention.” Dean is struggling furiously, trying to break free of the body bind the demon has put on him, but it’s no use. He is too strong. “And I wanted to keep you up and running for a while, but see, now you know too much. Can’t have you ruining my endgame.”

“And what exactly is your endgame?” Dean spits out between clenched teeth. The demon shakes his head.

“Oh no no, you’re not going to find out now! That’d make things too gosh darn simple. I’m going to be real careful. Erase my tracks so nobody else finds out. You made me sure that I need to do that, and I thank you, varmit.” He makes as if to touch Dean’s face and Dean snarls at him. “A little feisty, are we? Well don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt YOU. It will be too much fun yanking you around in the future! I can just hurt this body.” And he takes out a knife to turn against Samuel. “You don’t want to see your grandpappy get hurt, do you, kid? Well, I’m not going to stop here—no, I’m going after mommy next.” He stabs the knife into his stomach and collapses to the floor as Dean screams in rage and agony. Deanna has come into the room now, and she has the gun Dean was using in her hands. Quick as a flash, the man who used to be Samuel whirls to disarm her, and the demon in his body grabs her by the hair and slams her to the floor. She screams now, too, a horrible wrenching shriek that makes tears run down Dean’s cheeks. The demon slams her down again until her breath chokes off in a strangled gasp and there is no more scream left. With blood dripping from his gaping stomach wound and a horrible grin on his face, the body of Samuel Campbell winks at Dean Winchester before departing into the night.

“CAS!!!” Dean cries out as soon as he thinks that it is safe for the angel to appear. He doesn’t want anyone else he loves to be hurt by this monster. And then Castiel is there, hurrying over to Dean with his face full of abject terror, but Dean waves him off with words of, “I’m fine. Check on her. Is she okay, Cas? Oh shit, oh hell, oh God, she’s dead. Can you fix her? Bring her back? Isn’t that something angels have some sort of mojo or power or whatever to do?!?” Castiel kneels beside Deanna and examines her carefully before reaching out with the same two fingers he’d used to transport Dean to the past and gently placing them on her forehead.

Deanna Campbell jolts up whilst taking an enormous gulp of air and Castiel disappears (after setting Dean free) so as not to alarm her. “Sam?” she gasps out, and Dean crawls over to her, a lump in his throat, because her wild panic reminds him of himself as a child, waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat because he’d had a nightmare and was worried about Sammy. In this case it is much worse because her husband is being controlled by a demon when his body is already dead. Dean comes up beside his grandmother and puts a shaking arm around her shoulders.

“Deanna, hey, it’s Dean. You’re all right, but Samuel is gone.” He hiccoughs, unable to get any more words out right away. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it sooner that the son of a bitch had him. I-I could’ve saved him and stopped…” he cannot go on any longer because of his roiling emotions, added to the fact that Deanna Campbell has reached up and firmly taken hold of his chin.

“None of that, now,” she says fiercely. “Don’t beat yourself up needlessly, Dean. You cannot save everyone, no matter how hard you try. But you know now that my husband is…taken over by that monster. So I am giving you permission to do whatever you need to do. Just save our daughter.” Those words snap Dean back up. He still has the ability to save his mother! If he can find her.

“Do you know where she might be? She went off with John Winchester,” he adds apologetically. “I saw them leave. I should have told her father the truth when he asked me, but…”

“You were afraid for that boy’s life if Samuel got a hold of him.” Deanna chuckles wryly. “I understand. They would have left town this way.” She tells him directions and he helps her to a comfortable chair before setting off out of the house and down the road at a run. This time, he is glad she’s waiting for them to return. At least there in the house she will be safe. All at once, Castiel is flying beside him. Dean doesn’t even break stride.

“This is not a good idea, Dean.”

“Cas, you know I have to do it,” he calls. “I can’t let my mother die in ten years! I don’t care if my entire future is changed; I have to save her. Please understand this, man. You saved my grandmother, after all. Why would you do that if it would destroy the fabric of time?” Castiel looks at him, those blue eyes going straight to Dean’s heart.

“I did it for you, of course, Dean. As long as she dies before you are born, the future will not be irrevocably altered. I will arrange for her to die in five years; quietly, in her sleep.” Dean almost trips over his own feet. He cannot believe Castiel can sound so calm about it, completely cold, detatched, and aloof about the deaths of people he loves.

“Well that’s just great. I’m sure she’ll understand when an apparent angel of death comes to her and says ‘I have to kill you because you can’t live if my boyfriend is to have a future.’ That’s a terrible thing to have on my head. Don’t you see that, Cas? If I can’t save them all, it doesn’t matter if I save one.” He stops talking and his face is set and hard as he puts all of his concentration into running. Castiel knows he cannot reason with Dean right now, but resolves to have a long conversation about this when they get back to the future.


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blast from the past... Part 4

***  
Dean rounds down a gravel side street, some miles out from town. With a flash of relief he sees his father’s car a mile down the road, parked at the edge of a lake. He stops for a moment and then to his horror spots his grandfather’s truck in the shadows. He sees Samuel stamp up to John’s car and yank Mary out of the passenger side by her hair. John gets out as well and tries to stop Samuel—he hears his mother cry, “Stop it, Dad! You’re hurting me!”

“Come on, Cas!” pants Dean. “We have to help them!!” Castiel looks at Dean with such profound sorrow and knows he may not be forgiven for his next words, but nevertheless pronounces softly,

“I am so sorry, Dean. But in this I cannot interfere. The demon Azazel has an endless array of wiles and ways of thwarting even the greatest attempts to stop him. He knows that there is an angel helping you, because that is the only way you could have come back from the future, and he is prepared for me. If I try to help he will have a shot at you. I will not risk you, Dean. I love you too much.” 

Dean is helpless. He runs forward anyway, too late, to see Samuel—Azazel—grab John by the neck and twist his head sideways, hard. He hears Mary’s anguished scream and sees her sink to the ground beside John’s now lifeless body. Her father’s body kneels beside her and murmurs that she is all alone; her parents and fiancé—Dean notes the flash of a ring on her finger, that same ring John had in the little red box at Rusty’s Diner, seemingly so long ago—are dead. He opens his jacket, and Dean knows the demon is showing off the gaping bloody stab wound. Tears roll down Mary’s face and they start cascading down Dean’s too as she asks what he wants and the demon outlines his deal—if she gives him permission to come into her house in ten years, “I’ll bring lover boy here back breathing.” Quiet, subdued, and defeated, Mary whispers, 

“And my parents?” NO! Dean wants to scream. Don’t try to save them! You’ll die if you do! Please! He gasps and sinks down at Azazel’s reply.

“Sorry, doll, but one deal for one body. I can’t bring all of them back at once. It’s one or nothing.” Dean sees his mother look down at John, the love of her life, who loves her exactly as she is, and he knows even before she nods, before her infinitesimal “All right,” what she will do. What she would’ve done anyway, no matter what, even if he had sat down with her and explained the whole thing, consequences be damned. She would still save her soon-to-be husband. But, as she grabs her father/Azazel in a desperate kiss to seal the deal (which is truly horrible and disgusting if you think about it), he cannot help screaming

“MOM!!!” and covering his face with hands that feel as cold as ice. Dean watches through his fingers now as John jerks up and takes a breath the same way that Deanna had, rising as Samuel slumps and falls, no longer breathing, a funnel of yellow-black smoke being expelled from his mouth. Dean knows it means nothing now, but he dusts the gravel off of his jeans and goes over to them anyway. He has to help Mary explain to John what happened to Samuel. He has to offer support. Maybe he just wants to see his parents together one last time. As he shuffles forward slowly in utmost defeat, his father spies him first.

“’Lo, Dean, buddy,” John croaks weakly. “I thought we weren’t gonna see you again. I guess work talk didn’t go so well, huh?” His voice is questioning and he does his best to look amused despite the situation they are in. Mary looks up, dazed and aching, her eyes drained of any emotion other than immense pain. It tears Dean apart to see it.

“Hi, Dean,” her voice is quiet and broken. “It was good of you to come.” Her voice shatters his heart and his willpower as he bursts out, 

“Mary, I got here as fast as I... I couldn’t save your father. I’m a failure. I’m so so sorry.” Dean drops to his knees again a short distance away. “I was the one who came here to warn him, warn you. I should’ve…” he shakes his head. “But it’s over now.”

“It’s over,” Mary exhales quietly. “And I am alone in the world apart from John.” She has to say his name, stroking his face as if she is still unsure that he is alive and well. “M-my Mom and Dad are both dead.” Tears pour down her cheeks as she wails quietly. This causes John to pull himself all the way up in order to hold on to her. Dean knows he can’t alleviate her pain completely, but he comments quietly,

“Actually, the monster was wrong about that. Your mom’s still alive. It’s just your dad…” he chokes up, looking down at Samuel slumped with his face in shadow, the grandfather he’d only just begun to know. Mary’s eyes rise and light up as she gasps, a sound of pure joy in the midst of pain,

“Oh, Dean!” She reaches out, still clutching John, and pulls him into the hug as well. John chuckles and moves his other arm out to hold Dean too. Dean himself closes his eyes and silently sobs; he is being hugged by both of his parents for the first time since he was four years old. He wants to stay there forever, but they have to get back to Deanna so she won’t worry about them. Mary and John have to spend as much time as they can with her for the next five years. 

Dean gets in Samuel’s truck, and John plays familiar tunes on the cassettes in his Baby, smiling and crying with Mary as they drive away. Dean follows with his grandfather’s body wrapped in a tarp in the truck bed, and he winces every time he drives around a curve. He’d offered to bring the truck because they didn’t want to leave it there and thus attract attention. Mary had stood by crying as John and Dean gently laid her father’s body down. It must have been a sight for his angel, a boy and his father placing his formerly demon-possessed grandfather onto the bed of a ‘56 Ford; not to mention the whopping story Mary must have had to tell John as they drove back to her parents’—now her mother’s—house. 

Dean knows he has to get away soon, so Castiel can take him back, but he stays as long as he can, helping to carry Samuel’s body inside as Deanna and Mary get a clean sheet ready. They lay him out on the dining room table—his favorite place in the house, Deanna said, smiling with her eyes wet—because he loved her cooking, and eating together as a family meant a lot to him. Mary turns away, her eyes burning as her face flames with shame about the way the last dinner she shared with her father had ended. Dean notices and goes to give a bracing one-armed hug, pressing his face into her hair; his lovely mother who has endured so much and yet was still able to provide him with a wonderful four years of childhood. He couldn’t ask for more than that. He shouldn’t wish for more than that. But he aches anyway, aches for the true feeling of family; for there is so much love in this house even in the midst of all its pain and sorrow. Deanna smiles at John and welcomes him at the door with, 

“Well. I’ve always wanted a boy. Welcome to the family, John.” And Dean’s young sweet caring father ducks his head.

“I’m proud to be a part of it. I can’t say how much—I really respected Samuel as a father and as a man. He was only trying to protect Mary and keep her safe. Anyone who would go so far to do that is all right in my book.” Dean can hardly control himself at this comment; his father has forgiven someone. Maybe this facet has not left him; maybe in the future he will yet forgive Dean…but these thoughts are interrupted when Deanna draws him into a hug saying,

“Come here, Dean. You may not be immediate family, but after all you’ve done for us tonight, you’re as good as.” But I couldn’t save him! His mind cries, and Deanna pulls his face into her shoulder. “Hush. None of that now,” she purrs in a voice that is the true property of a grandmother. She has it down, though she doesn’t know, and Dean clutches her, aching for strength and a peace that his present family has never known.

But he knows that he has to leave; after all, there is no one else to care for Sammy in the present and there is also that army of demons to worry about. The three take care of Samuel and eat more of Deanna’s sumptuous food (because it is almost midnight and apparently everyone gets peckish around midnight). And it is the best way to honor her husband’s memory, intones Deanna. Dean can’t disagree because the food is delicious. Afterwards, he says goodbye and gives hugs all around. Then Dean steps out onto his future house’s porch—feeling a bit like Scout Finch does at the end of To Kill A Mockingbird, or at least if he were Sammy he would feel that way—before his angel materializes next to him and caresses his shoulder, comforting and strong. “It is time, Dean. We must go.” Dean nods, unable to speak. He takes one last look at the house and the people that are his past, present, and future. Then he turns to face Castiel and closes his eyes as the angel places two fingers gently upon his forehead once more.


	26. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning from the past, Dean gains MORE distress as he learns of something dangerous about Sammy. He attempts to alleviate thoughts of said distress with an intimate encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final paragraph (between the ------------) is the single short sex scene in this story. I don't blame you if you don't want to read it because I'm sure, as a result of my lack of experience with gay sex, the descriptions are horrible. But I attempted the description because Dean seems like the sort of person who would try to drown out his pain with rampant reckless raunchy lovemaking--if he didn't have any booze.

***  
Dean opens his eyes to find himself back at the kitchen table of his college apartment, with a glass of water knocked on its side and cold liquid soaking his jeans and dripping onto the tile floor. Castiel is sitting across from him at the table, still dressed in his trench coat and clothes, both hands braced upon the wood. He is staring intently at Dean with those ultramarine eyes, searching madly for a sign of emotion on his beloved’s face. What did he expect? Understanding? Forgiveness? Love? Anger? Maybe all of those things at once? But the angel is not prepared for the utter blankness of Dean’s face. It is empty, haunted, and immobile. And it is scaring the shit out of him. He understands that Dean may need some time to process what he has seen, though, and also realizes that the other needs rest.

“You need sleep,” intones Castiel, rising and offering his hand to Dean out of reflex. There is a bitter twist to the side of Dean’s mouth after he says this. The shadowy dark green eyes rise to stare hard at Cas.

“I need sleep? Of course, how could that possibly be a problem, when all I can see is my grandfather dying in front of my eyes, my grandmother killed and brought back to life, and a demon almost tearing off my father’s head? And I couldn’t do ANYTHING to stop it, to save any of them, and my mother STILL made that deal! She’s dead, and Lilith was right, she died for nothing. Azazel still came into the nursery that night when Sam was asleep and—” here he stops, face white and eyes wide. “—he tried to do something to Sammy. Oh my God. That’s what my mom was doing in the nursery wasn’t it? She was trying to protect my little brother. What did he dO TO MY BABY BROTHER?!?” Dean is up in a flash and has grabbed Cas by the lapels of his trench coat and slammed him hard into the wall. The angel is reminded of the last time the two of them crashed into this wall, but there is no loving passion anywhere in Dean now, only fear and rage. Castiel swallows quickly.

“Azazel had him drink demon blood on that fateful night. We have to save Sam, in order to ensure he does not go down a dark path as a result of that occurrence. He was given demonic powers by ingesting the blood—and such dark influences have the tendency to corrupt and shrivel the resolve of even the people with the best intentions.” Dean wrinkles his nose in disgust at the mention of his brother drinking demon blood, but then he snorts and slightly loosens his grip on Castiel’s coat.

“Obviously you don’t know Sam.”

“I do know Sam, and that is the point. We can help him control the stirrings. He has already expressed to you that he has had several visions of death, yes?” Dean nodded. “He may also begin to exhibit immense strength and psychokinesis—the ability to move objects with one’s mind.”

“I don’t see how there’s a problem with that—those powers sound pretty sweet. Look up in the sky! It’s a bird—it’s a plane—no, it’s Super Sammy!” Dean has relaxed his grip completely now, letting go of Castiel’s clothes and stepping back a pace. The angel puts his head in his hands. Dean will understand soon.

“I have instructed Zeke to place an angelic sigil around your Uncle Bobby’s house. As long as Sam is there, he will be safe. He does remain there for extended periods, does he not?” Dean nods tersely.

“Yeah, but he isn’t there now; he’ll be at our dad’s house. But I let him know when I talked to him that he needs to get to Bobby’s as soon as he can. Oh—Jesus Christ, the kid’s probably gonna try to be a hero and bring Jessica there with him.”

“That is fine, as long as he remains on the premises. We do not know everything about this, but your brother may also possess the power to control demons, and this ability is the most concerning.”

“Why? If he could control ‘em, he’d be able to send their asses straight back to Hell!” Cas shakes his head.

“It is not that simple. To be able to control another being—that is an immense power that Sam may not be able to resist. No matter how good he is, power corrupts everyone eventually. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. We must watch over him to ensure it does not escalate to that point. Lilith will work directly to cause that.”

“So that’s why Lilith was in Sammy’s dream; to let him know she’s gunning for him. That bitch, I’ve got a special fight in mind for her.” Dean gets the look on his face that scares even Castiel; it is furious, restive, and resolved. “That means we have to move fast on these demons so they don’t join Lilith. What about Crowley? I mean, he is kind of a douche, but he grades his Latin papers fairly. He doesn’t seem the type to indiscriminately slaughter humans.”

“Crowley is…an interesting case.” The angel stops here. He could tell Dean many things about the King of Hell but his lover must get some sleep first, and so Castiel forcibly takes Dean’s shoulders and guides him back into the bedroom. Dean sheds his leather jacket and his father’s KU sweatshirt in acquiesce, curling into the fetal position in the mound of blankets alongside Cas. The angel in turn pulls Dean back into the secure warmth of his chest, offering solace simply as a result of his presence. Dean wakes up a few hours later. After tossing and turning for awhile, throwing off covers in a sweat before pulling them back on, he presses as close to Castiel as he can get. Needing the assurance that someone else saw what he did and knows what he now knows about his family. He sees Castiel in his mind’s eye then, eyes full of pain, watching Dean clutch both of his parents in a fierce embrace; Castiel’s soft expression as he tells Dean he has a wonderful family; his hand firm and solid as he squeezes Dean’s fingers in a gesture of comfort outside the diner; Castiel’s lips warm and strong against Dean’s as he calmed the racing of the Winchester’s heart. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And something else about him is firm and strong right now—Dean can feel the hardness of a certain part of Castiel that presses into his lower back, and as he shifts to test things out there is a sharp intake of breath and the angel’s eyes grow wide. Dean turns, not quite smiling, but almost, because he wants so badly to distract himself from all of the pain—and this just might do it. Dean cups Castiel firmly between his two hands. Then he strokes and pulls, causing Cas’s eyes to close and his breath expels in a moan that Dean answers with his own quiet gasp. He feels himself grow hard as he rubs up against Cas, whose shining blue eyes have darkened with desire. Seeing this makes Dean come, and then he turns his back again and presents his posterior to the other man. Castiel is hesitant, unsure of what to do; “Put yourself inside me, Cas. Please, I want you.” This is all that he wants right now; anything to forget what he had so recently witnessed. This is not a healthy way to deal with one’s problems, but screw it. Castiel’s breath is warm on the back of Dean’s neck as he runs his fingers up and down the Winchester’s back and then slowly unsheathes Dean’s gluteous maximus from his pants. He presses himself up against Dean, closing his eyes and letting out a gasp as Dean tilts and turns so that his hole is poised exactly where Cas needs it to be. Pushing himself forward and downward, Castiel reaches around Dean and holds him as the man lets out a moan, bucking and gasping in his own turn as Cas enters Dean and they move together fluidly, fiercely, with a vigorous energy.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	27. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting (and formulating a plan of action).

***  
His resolve to help Dean understand everything that is happening and all that is going to happen to them, no matter how difficult it may be for him—Castiel knows this to be the truth because neither one has spoken a word since they wake around 8:30 and headed to breakfast in the cafeteria; as little as either one wants to deal with it, there are classes today and finals all next week. As well as the midwinter play to think about. Dean stares listlessly into the depths of his cup of coffee as Castiel finds the ingredients to make a perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He cuts it in half with a knife and carries a plate to a two-seat table by one of the windows as Dean slowly follows, shuffling over with a plate greasy with sausage and messy with eggs. Dean sips coffee and stuffs his face, gazing blearily at the monochromatic pallor of the early morning sky; and idiotically, this is the first thing he decides to say, something that he would never ever think of in a million years if he wasn’t so tired:

“Cas, why is the sky gray?” Castiel coughs and stops eating his sandwich in surprise. He squints his eyes and looks out the window for a moment before replying with,

“I’m afraid I do not know, Dean. At least not the specific reason on this morning.” It could be the result of a cold front, he is thinking, or the onset of rain…but Dean shakes his head slightly, smiles, and puts his mug down.

“It’s because all the blue is in your eyes.” 

An unintentional smile splits the angel’s face. If that isn’t the sweetest thing Dean Winchester has ever said. It contrasts so wonderfully and completely with their interactions of the previous night that Castiel feels himself relax into the role he has become accustomed to—not Dean’s protector, but his equal. They will figure out what to do together. If there is to be a fight or a flight or a protection detail, Cas will do whatever it takes to prepare with the help of his partner sitting right here. He tries to think of an appropriate response.

“I am sure that is untrue, but thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I had to say something stupid to ease the tension,” Dean adds after rolling his eyes and spearing a link of sausage with his fork. “’Least it gotcha to open up—you were being too quiet.”

“That is because I was unsure if you wanted me to speak, Dean. I wished to respect your early morning reverie.” Dean snorts.

“That wasn’t a reverie, dude. That was a fuckin’ stupor because I wasn’t fully awake til I got this coffee. What happened last night…it took a lot out of me.” He says it honestly, flatly, as if daring Castiel to make a contradiction or a remonstration, to tell him that the past shouldn’t have affected him so strongly, that Dean needs to buck up and move on and focus on the present; but Castiel knows none of these phrases would help—in fact, if he said any of them he would probably be punched in the face. All he says is:

“I understand. How are you feeling this morning, Dean?”

“Drained at the moment, and every time I think about what’s happening I feel like my body is being blowtorched and shredded and stabbed with freezing cold rusty knives all at the same time. I don’t want to feel all of this shit, Cas. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.” Castiel nods and reaches out to take Dean’s hand. “Anyway,” Dean sniffs and wipes his face with a napkin, “I have that list of the details of Sam’s dream-vision-whatever on a piece of paper. Do you think we can give it to one of the angels, like Zeke or Gabe maybe, and they can search for the town Lilith and the other demon were operating in?” He takes the crumpled scrap of paper out of his pocket and spreads it out on the table next to Cas’ hand. The angel gravely studies it.

“Yes, this information should be sufficient. I will get it to Michael after our meal.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I thought you’d give it to Zeke! I mean Michael’s an okay dude, but…I dunno man, isn’t Zeke the one who has your complete trust?” Castiel thinks for a moment and smiles.

“Yes he does. We were …friends in Heaven. He is a good soldier.” He comes back to Earth when Dean stabs his fork fiercely into a piece of egg. “There is no need to be jealous, Dean. My affection for him is not even in the same plane of how I feel about you.”

“’M not jealous,” Dean mutters, stuffing his mouth with eggs. “’hat’s great tho’. You should have your heavenly buddy do it.”

“Providing Michael with the information is much more efficient,” Cas says. “He is God’s sword, the protector of Heaven, after all. And as such,”

“He’s a good scout and battle tactician obviously,” Dean utters. “Yeah, I get it. He’s like your General Patton and we’re just Kelly and Oddball and the rest of the grunts.” Castiel cocks his head in confusion. “Yeah, I just mixed together two classic movies. Whatta ya gonna do?! Sue me!” he gulps down the last of his coffee and brushes off crumbs from his jacket and his face. “This has been fantastic, but I’ve got a class in ten minutes.”


	28. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Sam and Jess

***  
“Okay, Jess, this is gonna sound crazy.”

“You’ve already been ACTING crazy all day, Sam. Looking around like you’re expecting somebody to jump us and not talking at ALL—what is going on?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. You know my uncle Bobby?”

“Yeah, the one who fixes cars and sometimes picks you up from school because your dad isn’t always around.” Jessica gives her boyfriend a look of concern. She doesn’t know the particulars of his family life, but can tell from his chronic lack of elaboration that it isn’t the greatest. For him to mention his uncle directly is rare. Has something bad happened?

“Well, I’m going to go stay at his place over break…and maybe for longer because things are pretty messed up, Jess. Or they’re going to be soon and it won’t be safe around here. And…” he takes a deep breath. “I want you to come with me.”

“Whoa, Sam, are you serious? My parents aren’t just gonna give me the ‘okay’ to go spend Christmas with a boy—even though they like you a lot—and, I don’t know, doesn’t this seem a little SERIOUS for us?” She says this hesitantly, but cannot stop her heart from leaping in happiness that Sam cares about her so much. Even if this offer of his is a little strange.

“It IS serious. I like you a lot, Jess. And I don’t want you to get hurt…which could happen if you’re not with me.”

“What’s gonna happen? Is there going to be some big winter storm or something?”

“…Let’s go with ‘or something’.”

“Come on Sam, you’re going to have to tell me more than that! I didn’t even know you watched the weather channel.”

“This wasn’t on the weather channel.” Jessica rolls her eyes. He’s being so DIFFicult!

“O-kay, so you listened to the news on the radio then. If there’s not going to be a winter storm, what is it? Tornado? Earthquake? Meteor shower that will wipe out 95 percent of life on Earth? What?”

Sam shakes his head and sighs. “None of those things, Jessica. It’s a lot weirder.”

“Weird? That’s what I’ve come to expect with you,” She gives him a teasing smile. He smiles back infinitesimally before becoming serious again. That REALLY freaks her out—normally she has to stop him from laughing at her stupid corny jokes for a quarter of an hour after she makes them. “Sam, what IS it? I promise you can tell me and I won’t think you’re crazy.” They are standing in the area reserved for carpool, and Sam waits until nobody is nearby before he says to her,

“Jessica, do you believe in Heaven and Hell?”

“From a theological standpoint, you mean? Sam, do you honestly think I would judge you or think you were crazy for asking me about religion?”

“No, and I mean literally, like, do you believe in the existence of angels and demons and stuff? And I don’t know, mentioning religious stuff these days can get people pretty freaked out.”

“Well I’m not most people, Sam. And yes, I believe angels are real. I like to think my aunt flies down sometimes to check on me. It helps me feel closer to her. My mom also always says that I have a guardian angel.”

“Well, get this: what if I told you that some angels become visible in order to help the people they’re guarding? And if it wasn’t necessarily a loved one guarding you, but some random angel, like uh, the archangel Raphael, say, and he came down to Earth to be with you…do you think that’s possible?” Jessica purses her lips and thinks about this.

“I’ve never heard someone talk about anything like that before, but I bet angels would become visible if something really important is happening. Like the four angels by the bank of the Euphrates River in The Revelation, coming to judge the parishioners at each church.” Sam shudders when his girlfriend mentions the Book of Revelations.

“I really hope that’s not what this is,” he mutters. 

“What WHAT is?” she demands. Sam steps away from her and puts up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I’ll explain in a minute, Jess. If you believe in angels, does that mean that you believe in demons too?” She gives him the stink eye for being halted in her questioning.

“You’d BETTER explain yourself to me, boy. I guess I believe in the Devil, yeah, but I’ve always found it hard to believe that one being can make people all over the world go bad. He has to delegate the tempting to his underlings, just like God gives some Grace to all of his angels. So, yeah, I believe in the idea of demons. I don’t know if that makes much sense.”

“It does. There’s a reason I’m asking all this, I promise.” He clears his throat and runs his hands through his hair before beginning to explain: “You know my big brother, Dean, is away at college.” Jessica nods in response, her blonde curls swinging.

“I remember. I called you when you were visiting him. I’m sorry about that by the way; I didn’t mean to take time away from your family.”

“It was fine, don’t worry. He knows about you too. I called him last night because I had a nightmare, not really a nightmare, a—a vision, about demons, and he said there are some at his school which is why he asked me to find an exorcism spell for him a week or so ago and I asked him about it and he told me that his Latin teacher is the king of Hell and has been summoning his minions to fight some other demon faction. Dean’s boyfriend Castiel is an angel and their group of friends is all going to work together to fight off the horde of demons whenever they appear.” Jessica gapes at him. Sam blows out an enormous breath before clearing his throat and running his fingers through his hair again, pushing the long locks off of his forehead. Jessica gives him a skeptical grin. “Yeah, I know, it’s a lot to take in.”

“I’LL say! You really believe this, Sam? Does your brother ever play practical jokes on you?”

“He has before, but that’s not what this is. Dean could never come up with something so imaginative. And I SAW two demons in the vision I had. So I know he’s not making this stuff up.” He sees Bobby’s car enter the parking lot and figures he has less than two minutes to convince his girlfriend to come with them. “Look, Jessica, I saw a little demon girl rip some poor guy’s insides out because he was a demon too, just not one who was loyal to her. There will be violence and bloodshed everywhere if Dean and his friends don’t stop the battle in time. And Dean doesn’t want me to go there to help him; he wants me safe, and the safest place for me to be is at Uncle Bobby’s.” His car is idling across the curb now. “So please, Jess, please come with me so I can make sure you’re safe too.” Jessica purses her lips and looks stoically at Sam. He stares back anxiously, apparently unaware of the enormous puppy dog eyes he’s making, because his girlfriend sighs loudly.

“I just can’t say no to you when you look at me like that. But Sam, I need some sort of proof. I want to talk to your brother myself.” Sam nods, all too happy to get proof for her if it means that she will be protected.

“You bet. Hey, Bobby,” he greets his gruff bearded uncle, who has just opened the passenger door of his Ford Expedition. “You remember Jessica.” She climbs into the back seat with Sam behind her.

“’Course I do. How’re ya doin’, Jessica?”

“Pretty well, Mr. Singer. How about you?”

“Not that great. I’m wiggin’ out. Sam, kid, do you know what your older brother’s getting into at school? I came outside early this morning and I swear I saw that kid—the tall blond one, what was his name? Zeke? I saw him circling our yard muttering something. Asked him politely what the hell he was doing here and all he said was ‘helping Dean protect Sam’. And then he just walked off cool as a cucumber. So I go back inside and try to call Dean, but his phone’s off, and then later he calls ME, says that Zeke was here weavin’ some angelic sigil spell that would protect us from demons, and that you were gonna have to stay with me, and he’d hopefully see us soon. Told me not to mention anything to your dad unless he asks. I for one think that’s blamed foolishness. If anyone’s gonna be fighting demons, it should be your old man. He knows more about ‘em than any other hunter…” he trails off at Sam’s startled look.

“What do you mean, Dad knows about demons? How could he? What does hunting have to do with anything? And anyway he’s not a hunter, he’s a traveling salesman!” Bobby snorts.

“That’s his cover story. He’s got to have a seemingly legitimate reason for endlessly snooping around in small town BFE America. Why do you think he taught your brother how to be so good with a gun? Where do you think all those fighting moves you learned come in handy? He’s not gonna duel any other traveling salesmen, you can bet that much. Why do you think I always ask you boys crazy questions, and why I’m so paranoid about the zombie apocalypse? It’s because things like that are real, dammit, and ghosts and demons are too. I’ve just never fought any demons before, so I’m sure glad your brother has an angel for a best friend. Excuse me—boyfriend. I just hope he knows how to fight. I’ll definitely have to tell your father about it,” he puts the truck in gear at last and heads out of the parking lot. “And he’s gonna be livid. He wanted you boys to stay out of the firefight. Wanted to keep ya safe, at least until you both turn eighteen. That’s when he wanted to start really training Dean. He wasn’t gonna teach you, Sam. Your dad knows you want different things from life than him.” Sam snorts.

“Yeah, right. What kinds of things? He doesn’t know anything about me! I bet he’d keel over if he found out I want to go to law school.” Jessica looks at her boyfriend with wide eyes after this angry outburst and squeezes his hand in hers. Sammy takes a deep breath and calms down. 

“Law school, eh? Now there’s a long road, though not nearly as long as the one your dad decided to walk after your mom passed.” Bobby clears his throat. “And me, when my wife died, I went hunting for a while. Stopped once I knew that killing all those rat bastards wasn’t the kind of life I was looking for. It wasn’t making me feel any better. So I bought the farm and started working on cars. Checked up on you kids when your daddy was away. We met on a hunting trip,” he adds in response to Sam’s quizzical raised eyebrow. “Wendigoo. Nasty bugger. Eats humans and makes itself clothes outta their skin. I had to be the bait. ‘Most fit my whole head in its mouth before your dad sliced it through the neck.” Jess gagged. Sam looked rather white.

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this before? Dean, he knows?”

“Because your dad told me not to. I’m pretty sure Dean’s figured out about your dad somehow, but I’ll have to tell him about me. Probably won’t surprise him too much though. Are you surprised?” he asks Sam, who shakes his head with a snort.

“Nah, it makes a lot more sense for you to be a hunter than Dad. All of your crazy stories…” he stops grinning and continues soberly, “…well I guess that means they aren’t crazy, they’re true.”

“Damn right they are.”

“Well I can’t believe any of this is true,” comes Jessica’s voice suddenly, “at least not until I have some undeniable proof.” Her chin rises stubbornly. “I told Sam that I needed to talk to Dean—and if this is a joke I’m going home.”

“It’s not a joke, Jessica, but I understand needin’ proof anyway. I’ll let you talk to Dean whenever he calls again…if Sam here has no objections.” Sam shakes his head quickly when Jess turns to look at him.

“No, Bobby, I’m not going to deny Jess anything she wants. Plus, Dean’s going to have to explain everything to me as well.” Bobby snorts.

“With the looks on both of your faces, I don’t envy your big brother right now, Sam.”


	29. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two-way, three-way, four-way call

***  
“Dean, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Dean groans.

“I know, Sammy, I know.”

“Not to me. To Jessica.”

“What—did you bring Jessica back to Bobby’s with you? Jesus Christ man, I knew it! Oh, you mean she’s on the phone? Hey there, Jessica. I’m Sam’s handsome wonderful big brother Dean.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

“It’s on speakerphone,” comes Sam’s voice from across the room.

“Well thanks for telling me that,” gripes Dean irritably. “I may as well put mine on speakerphone as well.”

“You don’t have to do that…what, is someone else there?”

“Yeah, Cas is. But he hardly ever leaves.” There’s a note of warmth in Dean’s voice even though he tries his damndest to sound annoyed with his boyfriend as he leans over Castiel’s shoulder to click on the icon for ‘speaker’. “Tell all of the people hello, Cas. Go on, say hi to everyone.” Castiel’s deep voice rumbles through the phone, making Jessica’s ears tingle.

“Hello, everyone.” Then, quieter, “Dean, who is ‘everyone’?”

“Just Bobby, Sam, and Jessica, Sam’s girlfriend.”

“Ah yes, Sam told me about her. Hello, Jessica. I am Castiel. Sam mentioned your excellent football catching skills, and I feel I must congratulate you on them.” 

“Um…thanks.” There is a pregnant pause. “So…yeah.”

“Weren’t you gonna ask me something? ‘Cause otherwise this is bullshit I’m wasting minutes.”

“Dean, you shouldn’t curse in front of a lady.”

“Whatever, Sam. I’ve cussed in front of you PLENTY of times before.” There is a snort. “Oh right. Sorry, Jess.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious, Dean.” Sam grumbles. Can’t his big brother be SEriOUS for once?!

“I know.”

“It’s all right with me if he curses, Sam. I have male cousins.”

“What are minutes?”

“Y’know, increments of time, Cas. We’ve been over this.”

“No, what does it mean for your phone? To be out of minutes?”

“Ugh. It’s when that robotic voice comes on, you know…”

“Oh! And says that I cannot talk any longer because my phone memory is full. Fascinating.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe I ever thought you were human, not even knowing about cellphone minutes—you’re lucky I’ve got your back, you big dork…” Dean’s voice trails off but before he gets lost in Castiel’s eyes and/or mouth Bobby snaps them back on track.

“All right, idjits, you can have your cozy domestic chit-chat later. I believe some answers are in order. Jessica?” he prompts her and she jumps and scoots forward in her chair, hands splayed on knees. Sam has never seen her so nervous. Which is to be expected, if your entire worldview hinges on a couple of questions carried on soundwaves through a telephone line, he’d be nervous too. Yeah, he’d definitely been nervous as hell the other night talking to Dean about his crazy dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream…Oh yeah.

“Hey Jess, can I ask Dean something really quick?” She gives him a bitch-face to rival his worst and he instantly backs off. “Okay, I’m sorry, you go first.”

“Did she just bitch-freeze you, Sam?” wafts Dean’s voice through the phone. Sam flinches and Jessica’s voice goes cold.

“Bitch WHAT?!”

“Oh shit, sorry, that’s what I call Sammy’s angry looks. Bitch faces. And he’s got some good ones, but I bet the stare you just gave him trumps ‘em all.” Dean laughs delightedly, still hanging on though the world may end tomorrow. “Sorry, Jessica, continue.”

“What I wanted to say,” She clears her throat and tucks a curl behind her ear, “Are you guys for real? Is this a true thing? Are there really angels and demons or whatever? You’re not just making this up as a really elaborate prank?”

“It’d be a pretty sweet prank,” is Dean’s answer. “But sadly, no. it’s all true. I didn’t believe it either until Cas showed me his wings.”

“Oh come on Dean! Is that a euphemism for something?”

“No! Get your mind outta the gutter, Sammy! I raised you better than that!” Dean’s voice is sharp and commanding for a moment, almost like their father’s. “No, he has literal, actual wings. They’re big. And black. And, uh, they’ve got feathers, y’know… they’re WINGS. Giant ass angel wings.”

“You could’ve just made that up and looked at an artist’s depiction of an angel in a theology book.”

“Oh for the love of—Sam, how do you say anything to this girl?”

“Well, I know if we’re ever in an argument, she’s gonna win.” Jessica playfully shoves Sam off his chair. “Ouch! But Dean, the info I gave you from my dream…did it help?”

“Oh yeah! Cas says it did. He gave it to Michael. Tell ‘em, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean is correct. I personally delivered your list to Michael myself. He is God’s protector, you know. Heaven’s great sword. What are you laughing at, Dean? Ahem. Anyway, he should be sending Anna over with a report.” In the background there is the sound of a rap on wood.

“Speak of the devil, or in this case, angel,” Dean mutters. “Hang on, guys. I’m not gonna disconnect you so you can hear whatever Anna says. And that way the government can hear us too. The FBI and CIA can suck my dick! All right, I’ll be mature now. Don’t roll your eyes at me, Sammy.” Sam, who is in the act of rolling his eyes at that very moment, opens his mouth in a look of shock before he says

“What? How do you know that’s what I was doing, Dean?!” Dean chuckles as he goes over and opens the door for Anna.

“I know you too well, brother. Hey Anna, there are some people who’d like to talk to you. One’s my younger brother who you’ve met before…”

“Oh yes, I do remember. Heya handsome,” Anna purrs. Sam turns beet red and his girlfriend glowers.

“Uh, hi Anna. How’re you?”

“Same old same old. It’s not the same here without having you to talk to. We really connected at that party of your brother’s, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess, I mean,” Sam is starting to sweat and Jess is looking daggers. His voice gets quieter. “Dean…please—save me.” Dean quickly adds

“Oh yeah, and there’s Bobby, who you also know, and Jessica, Sam’s girlfriend.” There is a gasp and some frantic whispering from Anna to Dean and Castiel. Dean’s voice says “Uh-uh. I am staying OUT of it.” Cas:

“What do you expect me to offer in this situation?”

“Idiots,” Anna snarls. Sam can SEE the hair flip. “Hello, Jessica. Listen girl, I promise you I was not making moves on your man. All right, maybe I was. A little. But I was really after his big brother and Samuel stopped me. I don’t know why. It all remains…mysterious.”

“Don’t ‘girl’ me, please. And as for knowing why he would stop you from flirting with Dean…neither do I.” The look given sidelong in his direction makes Sam squirm and sputter,

“It’s because of you, of course, Jess. And because—Dean’s with Cas, that’s why!” Oh shit. He’d said it too loudly and shrilly. They were all on his back but he shouldn’t have caved this quickly—he knows this with a shock that zings into the marrow of his bones when Dean’s cold voice says,

“Thanks a lot for that, Sammy.” Oh man.

“Dean—” 

“No, it was bound to come out at some point anyway. Now Anna knows. And Jessica knows. Why don’t we let everyone know?! Shout out to all the angels and demons??? YOU HEAR THAT GOD—YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL CASTIEL IS DATING DEAN WINCHESTER! YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT—AND I’M FUCKING HIM TOO!!” After this there is dead silence.

“Calm down, it’s all right, Dean.” Anna’s voice. “I think I already knew. We probably all sort of knew. I’m pretty sure Zeke knew. And Gabe just likes to tease you guys, but it’s all in fun. I promise you, Dean, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Except for the horde of demons that will soon be on its way here to fight a war that will destroy humanity,” Castiel says, and then they hear Anna slap him. “Ow! That was unnecessary, Anna.”

“No it wasn’t. I’m trying to cheer Dean up and you aren’t helping, sunshine.” Pause. “Anyway, yes, Michael and I did reconnisance. It doesn’t look good. Demonic possessions have started spreading and there are some already as far east as Las Vegas and Denver. That demon you saw, Sam? She’s the head of a faction that’s getting stronger by the hour. Her name is Lilith, and she’s seriously bad news.”

“Lilith.” Jessica’s voice is slightly smaller. “You mean Adam’s first wife?”

“You know your Biblical mythology,” Anna hums approvingly. Dean is pissed.

“What, so did everyone already know who Lilith was except me?! Do you know, Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean, they told us about her in Sunday School.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, you were. I distinctly rememb—oh wait, that’s right. You met Cassie for that date/outside of school thing. Or maybe it was Robyn. I don’t—”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Sam.” Dean snaps. Jessica smiles a little.

“Why did you make him stop his story, Dean? Are you afraid that I will be jealous?”

“’Course not, man, jealousy is alien to your nature. Isn’t it?” There is silence. “Isn’t it? Cas?”

“I will let you ponder that one.”

“CAS!?!”

“All right boys, settle down. You can make out later. We have a world to save. Anyway, the rest of you will be safe there. Ezekiel has already warded your house with a sigil, Mr Singer.”

“Yeah, and scared the shit outta me too,” Bobby grumbles gruffly. “He’s lucky I wasn’t carrying my gun, or I would’a shot him.”

“Man, Bobby, if you’d have done that—”

“He would have dodged.” Castiel says.

“What?”

“Zeke would have dodged.”

“No way, man. You may be angels, but this isn’t The Matrix. Unless Zeke is secretly Keanu Reeves…he isn’t, is he?”

“Keanu Reeves? Please. Get a grip on yourself, Dean. Of course he’s not Keanu Reeves.” Anna scoffs.

“You never know. Reeves doesn’t age. I thought at first he was a vampire, but he could be…”

“Stop it, Dean, now you’re just goofing off.” Sam snaps.

“So what if I am? Who’re you gonna call? The Ghostbusters?”

“Ugh…you’re such a jerk.”

“Thanks. You’re a bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You got any more questions about all of this shit, Jessica?”

“Just one. If the fact that the demons are making war is so awful for everybody, why is it so incredibly important to keep SAM safe? Why not draw an angelic sigil around the whole country, or the parts the demons haven’t reached yet? Why are you protecting Sam specifically? I mean, I love him and so do you, obviously, but there’s something else going on here besides the fact that he’s your brother. I can tell.”

“Technically that’s three questions. I could deduct points, Miss Moore. But I won’t because I’m such a nice guy. Why are we protecting Sam? Uh, Cas, do you wanna take this?”

“I think it would be more meaningful coming from you, Dean. After all, you saw the deal happen.” There is a second before Sam jumps in with:

“DEAL? What deal? You mean like a demon deal?! Oh no…”

“That’s right, Cas, just throw me under the bus.”

“Dean, what aren’t you telling me?”

“You don’t wanna know, Sammy, I…”

“Just TELL me, Dean, you can’t keep protecting me from things anymore!”

There is silence. Then Anna says   
“Should I leave?”

“Yes, I believe I shall too. Let us go search out sustenance, Anna.” 

“Cas…”

“It is all right, Dean. I will be in my room whenever you are done. Goodbye, Mr Singer, Jessica, Sam. I am sure that I will speak to you again.”

“Bye, Cas. Bye Anna.” They hear a door shut and then there is more silence. “Are you still there, Dean? You’d better be.” When next Dean speaks, his voice is husky, from resignation or tears, Sam isn’t sure, and it scares him.

“Yeah, little brother, I’m here.” Little brother. Dean only says that when he’s trying to reassure Sam, or reassure himself…after he’s been worn down enough not to crack any more jokes. “Listen, Bobby, um, maybe you and Jess don’t want to hear this.”

“Of course they do, Dean.”

“No Sam, it’s all right. You talk to your brother. I’ll take Jessica outside and teach her to shoot the tab off a soda bottle.” Sam looks over at his girlfriend with wide concerned eyes.

“You okay with that, Jess?” She laughs and pats his arm.

“Of course, silly. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll learn enough so that I can shoot as well as your uncle Bobby. It was nice to talk to you, Dean. Thanks for answering my questions.”

“No problem, Jess. I’m sure Sam will let you know the gist of what I tell him.” She smiles at the use of her nickname from her boyfriend’s big brother and heads outside. After the door closes, Dean adds, “That’s a great girl you’ve got, little brother. Now it’s your job not to screw up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dean. Now are you gonna tell me what you’re talking about or not?” 

Dean lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. Then he tells Sam the story: how Cas told him who Lilith was and in order to explain her comment in Sam’s dream he’d sent Dean back in time to 1987, ten years before Sam was born; when their mother had been a badass and also really hot; how the demon Azazel possessed their grandfather and killed him before killing their grandmother as well; and then Castiel saved her life and Dean ran to find their not-yet parents—but he was too late to stop the demon in his grandpa’s body from snapping his father’s neck and had to watch with helpless agony as his mother made the deal that would end her life and one day haunt her son’s. To allow Azayzay entry into her home ten years hence. Twenty years in the future would have her older son preparing to fight an army of demons and her younger son experiencing horrible mind-bending psychic nightmares. 

Sam wishes he could see his brother’s face. He wishes he could promise that nothing is wrong with him, that the knowledge of the deal and the deal itself haven’t adversely affected him in any way shape or form, but then he’d also have to make Dean believe he wasn’t lying to him; and how can he possibly do that if he is lying to himself? “So the reason Dad never told us anything about Mom, or about his job, or why we had to move so much as kids…” Sam’s voice trails off thickly before cracking with anger. “It’s because he didn’t think we could handle the truth???”

“No, that is NOT why he did it, Sam.”

“He’s been lying to us this whole time! Our entire lives! How in the world can you still possibly defend him?!”

Dean expels a huff of breath in annoyance. He doesn’t need to tell his brother this. Wait, who is he kidding, of course he does. All Sam has been hearing for most of his life are secrets and lies, which is probably one of the reasons his little brother’s relationship with their dad is so screwed up. Sensitive Sammy always knew on some level when he was being lied to. It drove Dean nuts. It was why he had to tell Sam something about their mom because the kid could smell BS—like the ‘your brother and me, we’re all you’ve got’ line he’d hear every night from their father like a mantra when he was growing up—that was why he gravitated toward Dean, emulating him, wanting to be just like him; because Dean would never lie to him. And he isn’t going to start now. “Okay, Sammy. The truth is—Dad called me.”


	30. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remonstrations and revelations

***  
It had been earlier that day, the day after everything changed. Dean had gone to his first class after eating breakfast with Cas—Constitutional Law—and tried hard to pay attention, even though his head was still pounding with all the knowledge he had gained the previous night. He scratched a few illegible notes on a sheaf of notebook paper before giving up and putting his face in his hands dejectedly. When he let out a loud sigh, he felt a kick connect to the back of his chair.

“Hey, yo Winchester. You mind continuing your existential crisis later? Some of us are actually trying to listen, here.” Dean turned to glare into the expressionless face of Victor Henrikson, who never ceases to sit ramrod-straight directly behind Dean. He wears a collared shirt, tie, and shiny shoes to class every single day, as if actively trying to make Dean look bad for slouching into the lecture in flip-flops and sweatpants. The only time he ever looked at Dean with any sort of approval was on one of the few occasions that Dean actually managed to say something intelligent.

“Excuse me if I don’t really give a shit about Constitutional rights when there’s actually something serious going on.” Dean snaps back. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d give me some space, Henrikson. It’s not like mine is the only seat to sit behind y’know.” Always bugging me every fucking day in here, Dean thinks savagely. What is it about Victor that he’s always got something to say? There are plenty of other people to bother…why does he have to pick on Dean, especially now with the demon advancement going on?! Great, now their professor is glaring at them and suggesting that they take their argument outside. “You know what, fine, Professor Mullen, I will,” Dean says, gathering his books together quickly and shoving his chair back in place. “Victor, would you care to join me?” he asks faux politely, bowing his head and stretching out an arm as if to invite the other man to dance. Victor scowls and slightly loosens his tie before slinging his coat over his shoulder.

“All right, Winchester. Let’s go.” They leave, Victor carefully closing the door behind them, and as soon as they step outside of the Political Science building, he turns to Dean. “What the hell is going on with you, man?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Dean shoots back, hefting his backpack onto one shoulder. He really doesn’t need this right now. “I’ve gotta make a phone call, and my life is spinning out of control, but what does that matter to you?”

“I’ve been sitting behind you for four months now, Dean. You’re always focused, serious, driven; maybe a bit of a wise-ass at times…but that’s fine,” Victor adds quickly, almost with a grin. “So it kinda freaks me out to see you so still. Just going through the motions like you don’t care about life. I wanted to get you to snap back to yourself…but I may have pushed a little too hard.” He coughs, looking down at his shiny shoes, and Dean realizes this is as much of an apology as Victor gives. He’s surprised, though. He never knew Henrikson paid so much attention to him—which is stupid, because at the beginning of the semester Victor had mentioned that his dream job is to become a detective for the FBI. Dean remembers this now, rather ruefully.

“Well, thanks, I guess, man. I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you’ve been keeping such a close eye on me.” Dean gives the other man a half grin. “I mean, are you worried that I’m gonna turn out to be a crook?” Victor smiles, white teeth flashing in his dark face, and it’s such an alien expression on his ever serious aspect that it makes Dean grin again.

“Nah, I just think you may have gotten into something and now you’re stuck in it over your head.” The smile melts off of Dean’s face when Victor says that. He doesn’t realize how close to the truth he is, but Dean knows that he cannot tell his classmate the real reason behind his abstraction. It wouldn’t end well for him, because Victor is the kind of guy who would get Dean sent to therapy or counseling if he were to mention demonic activity in a serious way. But he has to say sOMEthing…

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s, um, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate and work in my classes. Latin is kicking my ass and I don’t know what’s going on with my family for the holidays—it’s kind of a mess around my house. My dad is, well, not happy with me for ditching the family business and coming to school.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. That’s probably vague enough. Victor nods, in understanding or camaraderie maybe.

“I get that. I’ve got a lot of work too, and my dad ran out on us so it’s just me taking care of my mom and my sisters. Gotta work hard on two jobs and send money back home to them.” He clears his throat. Dean knows he’s not bragging. He knows it is killing Henrikson to admit that he’s struggling to do anything, because Dean knows from what Victor says in class that he’s hardworking and driven and doesn’t do well with failure of any kind. “But hey—if you wanna work out together or get food or something sometime; or even just to blow off steam, let me know.” The fact that Henrikson is being serious but not pitying is enough to make Dean reply gratefully,

“Thanks, Victor. I may take you up on that. But right now…”

“Yeah yeah, there’s a phone call you’ve gotta make. I’ll go back to class and make up an excuse for Dr. Mullen.” Dean gives him a sideways look, and Victor grins again. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him I beat the crap outta ya; besides, I doubt I could.” Dean nods and gives him a small wave as he heads back across the quad, calling Bobby—who isn’t answering his phone, dammit, so Dean leaves a harried message that probably won’t make any sense and will just cause his uncle to worry about him, but that can’t be helped now—and then, as soon as he presses the ‘END’ button to stop the call, his phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number, so Dean doesn’t grab it until the third ring after he reasons that it might be Zeke or Gabe or Anna calling him. He’s going to have to get Cas to program all of their numbers into his cell phone since he doesn’t have their angelic radio thing.

“This is Dean Winchester speaking.”

“Hello, Dean. It’s your father.” Dean stops. He isn’t a klutz normally, but in this case it’s lucky he’s on relatively flat ground because otherwise he’d have probably tripped and fallen down. This is the first time he’s heard his dad’s voice in almost two years—before, their terse communications had been carried through Bobby or Sam. So Dean feels justified in getting right to the point in his response:

“Sir. Why are you calling?” but his father is obviously not feeling quite as forthright. 

“How are you doing, son?” Dean grits his teeth. Why do you care now?!

“I’m great, Dad. This collosal waste of my time is going fine, thanks for asking. How are things at home? Everything running smoothly or are you gonna give me the guilt trip about how hard it’s been for you since I shirked all of my familial responsibilities?!” John’s reply this time is much softer.

“Dean—”

“Oh wait, you’re not AT home at the moment because the real family business is going great, isn’t it? Yeah I know all about it, Dad. Since Sammy’s at school all day and he’s fine with going home with Bobby, you can just gallivant all over the country killing demons and staking vampires and whatever else you decide to do without having to worry about taking care of two pesky sons.” There is a stretch of silence after Dean says this. And now that he’s articulated it and has reached his apartment door, Dean realizes he may have come on too strong. He waits for his father to hang up on him or get so steamed he can barely talk and they end up disconnecting in five seconds, but none of that happens. John stays on the line. Maybe talking about last night with Castiel earlier was helpful to Dean, because he finds himself breathing more easily as John clears his throat and tries to explain to his eldest son why he lied to him all these years.

“Listen, son. I know you don’t want to hear anything justifying what I did after the way I’ve treated you for going away to school; the way I’ve treated you your whole life. The thing is, your mother—she was the love of my life. But she kept secrets. We all keep secrets, Dean, to protect the people we love. I didn’t understand that at the time…when she first told me what her father had done for a living. What he wanted her to do. I didn’t think she was crazy, Dean. I knew her too well for that. I knew she wasn’t unbalanced, so I had to ponder why she wouldn’t tell me something like that, about such a big part of her life. And I got mad. Furious. I stomped off and went and started drinking…” he pauses and Dean grinds his teeth fiercely to stop the cutting reply he feels rising on his tongue. “It wasn’t until—that night sixteen years ago, when…” John’s voice trails off hoarsely, and Dean can tell his father is choking back tears. Dean’s own eyes get blurry in response to the memory. “…she died, she was killed, Dean. I knew it wasn’t an accident, and it was then I understood that supernatural entities cause nothing but hurt. I talked to Missouri about it, afterward. She assured me that I was right; your mother’s death was no accident. She started me on the path to finding the creature that did it.”

“Missouri? Who was she, Dad?”

“Missouri Moseley, the woman who lived next door to us. She has intuitive powers. I don’t know if you remember her, but…”

“Yeah yeah, actually I do. Short stout lady with a loud voice, right? Didn’t she take care of me and Sammy—she wouldn’t let me put my feet on her coffee table, I remember—when you went out looking for a new house? Except that wasn’t what you were really doing, was it?” Dean’s voice is hard. John chuckles tiredly at his son’s assessment of their old neighbor.

“That’s her. I forget you remember so much. I suppose it should make things easier… And yes, I WAS looking for a house, but you’re right, that wasn’t all I was doing. Your brother’s researching streak comes from me—I was out running down leads. Any strange occurrence I could find; anything that had a single solitary similarity to what happened to your mom. That’s why I think they call it ‘hunting’ because you’ve got to be meticulous. Observant. Set traps for things. And know just enough about the creatures you’re fighting to make you dangerous.” John is talking more than he has in ages, and Dean doesn’t want him to stop. He wants to hear everything so that he can sift through and understand why he was forced to play the role of a good little soldier rather than just being a regular son. 

“THAT’S how you met Bobby. He wasn’t one of your buddies from the Corps, he was a hunter too! That’s why he’s so into zombies and stuff.”

“Yep. He helped me come up with my cover story after I told him not to say any of the truth to you two. I just should’ve warned him to keep his mouth completely shut.”

“Why did he have to lie for you?! Why didn’t you just tell us the truth, Dad?”

“I was GOING to tell you after your eighteenth birthday. I figured you’d be old enough to hunt with me by then. I wasn’t going to tell Sam though; not if I didn’t have to. He’s different from you, Dean. He’s too sensitive and passionate. Can’t close himself off when he needs to.”

“How is that so bad??? If you’re trying to justify this—”

“I’m not, Dean. I’m just telling you what I think and what I see! Sam is too much like me. You are a lot more like your mother.” Dean chokes at this, on the words that he means to say, the biting viritrol tasting like bile on his tongue as he freezes in response to his father’s words. “I wanted you boys to have a life that would mean something. I know that Sam wants something different out of life than you or me. He wants to be normal, safe. He wants to go to law school; I think I heard him mention it.” John clears his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t think you were like that. With your less-than-stellar grades all through school and the fights and things, I figured you’d be better at living on the road like me… saving people and hunting things. I was wrong about that, obviously,” he adds when Dean lets out an audible snort. “And I’m sorry for it, but now that you know I hope that you can at least attempt to understand.” There is a stretch of silence that seems indeterminable until Dean finally answers,

“Yeah. Yeah I do understand, Dad. Too well, actually; I think I should’ve maybe learned how to hunt a little from you because my Latin teacher is the King of Hell.”


	31. Chapter 30

***  
“So you told him?”

“Yeah, I told him everything I learned about that night, and Azazel, and you too, Sammy.”

“Uh-huh. Does that include mentioning your angelic boyfriend Castiel?”

“Well…”

“Jeez, Dean, why are you so scared of what Dad will think?! His advice to you was just to keep your head down and get to Bobby’s house before you make a stand against the demons. I guess that means he’s gonna ride up on his white horse and save us, huh?”

“Shut up, Sam. That isn’t it at all, I don’t really give a shit if he accepts my sexuality, but we’ve got more important things to worry about! Besides,” Dean coughs and scratches his nose. “He doesn’t care for supernatural things so it doesn’t make sense to mention angels until one saves his ass.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, big bro.” Sam shakes his head and chuckles drily at his brother’s ballsyness.

“Hell, I know it, but at least you’re in this with me. And you don’t hate me yet. We’re gonna kick some demonic ass, little brother. I’m proud of us.” At this comment, Sam’s eyes fill with understanding and gratitude and love for his brother. Dean is treating him like an adult and telling him truths that no teenager wants to hear, yet Sam knows that he has to listen and understand anyway—and he is glad of it. He wants to help Dean in any way that he can, and the fact that Dean would tell him all that their father said is an immense step in the right direction. He wishes that Bobby’s phone had an enabled webcam so that Dean could read the expression on his face. That way he wouldn’t need to say anything in response. It doesn’t, though, because their adoptive uncle seems intent on remaining in the technological Stone Age. Sam sighs deeply. All he can manage to articulate is,

“Me too.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? I opened up a big brotherly moment with that little speech, man.”

“Eat me, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs. “Good to know you’re still a bitch. Yeah, I think that’s it. Well, I’ve gotta go now, Sammy. We’ve got finals next week, not to mention use a Christmas play to catch some demons.” Sam blinks, unsure that he’s heard Dean correctly, but then he laughs. Only Dean would think of something that crazy. He may not have much of an imagination, but he is most definitely not averse to doing insane things. 

“Okay then, Dean. But be careful. Good luck. And call me if…if anything goes wrong.”

“Will do.”


	32. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The play's the thing wherein they'll catch the minions of the demon king.

***  
“So, Ruby, does the ‘Christo’ thing really work on demons?”

It’s early evening, a few days before the show, and Ruby is sweeping up backstage. Dean had dumped his brains into his Constitutional Law final that morning and needs to have some fun. He comes up to the techie and now leans against the proscenium arch, watching her and smirking. Ruby’s back jerks and then she stiffens before dropping her broom, standing up, and turning around with her lips pressed tightly together. The blood has left them. Her eyes, formerly their stormy gray green, are pure black.

“Obviously it does,” She grits out before her eyes go back to normal and her shoulders relax. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” he says. “Though I’d be happier if I knew exactly how many more demons will be showing up at this thing. Can’t you listen in on some conversation Meg has with ol’ demon-daddy Lucifer?” Ruby blows air hard out of her nose in annoyance.

“No, genius, demons aren’t wired that way. Angels, yes, because they’re all divine beings on the same plane as one another. Some demons are divine as well, of course—you’ve heard of fallen angels, yes? I would hope you’re smart enough to know about THEM—but others of us were once human. Still are, as a matter of fact,” She gives him a look that seems triumphant and Dean has only a second to spot and wonder at it because Charlie runs up and gives her an effusive hug. Dean would think it was totally platonic, but then Ruby turns and kisses the petite redhead on the lips. And it lingers. Dean’s eyes bulge and then he clears his throat after deciding that Charlie must be into destructive relationships—or she has a thing for big-eyed blondes. Either way, he isn’t sure this is a step up from Meg. 

Also, what is he going to say to his friend after Ruby becomes one of his dis-possession victims? ‘Sorry but the person who liked you had a demon in control of her, and the real girl whose body this is isn’t a lesbian’? What if she is, though? Or what if Ruby is actually on his side and has no ulterior motives? Then he’s gonna feel like shit for sending her back to Hell with all the other demons…some of whom might realize that Ruby had ratted them out and then things would be a LOT worse for her. Not to mention if she ever were to force her way out of the Pit again she would most likely be gunning for Dean. Not a thought you want to have in your brain on the opening week of a college play. Because college is when people actually expect actors to be good at what they do and if they aren’t, well, the best part is tomatoes. The worst part will be dealing with Balthazar for the next five months. Or he could just get killed on opening night, Dean decides. Nah, the idea of dealing with Balthazar is still a lot worse.

Opening Night. Dean is so jittery with nerves that he feels like his organs are going to fall out. GREAT image and idea on the night that all of the demons are here.

“Hear me, Joseph—Mary has spoken true. She will bear a son to you. He shall be the Son of God—and his name shall be Wonderful, Councillor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace.” Dean cannot help it; his jaw is actually ready to drop because, dammit, Cas has infused his being with that angelic grace again. Dean can hardly bear NOT to look at him. He stands as if fighting a gale-force wind and kneels, effectively putting his fate in Castiel’s (or Gabriel’s) hands. And is it awful of him to really want to give Cas a blowjob of religious proportions at this moment? No, he can’t. Focus, Dean. Now it’s time for them to oust the demons… It’s their lives; it’s now or never. As one, the two young men turn to face the crowd and Dean rises from his knees.

“Christo Domine Deus!” Castiel booms, his voice once again at that deep timbre that one cannot fail to hear, even if a person tries desperately to shut it out. “O Domine, tueri me!” his voice almost cracks at this moment—if his Father does not hear and protect him, he cannot help Dean—and that would be a greater horror and curse than to have his Grace forcibly extracted from him.

“Regna terrae eleves arma - videris sus!” Dean yells. “Fortiter, fortius, et adiutor Deum terra terrae motu libera nos a malo!!” This translates literally as: ‘Kingdoms of land raise your weapon—you see the pig. Bravely, bravely God, protector of the land, free us from this earthquake.’ Hopefully it will work. Dean widens his eyes and jerks his head at Cas as the angel scans the crowd—a few theatre patrons have begun to shake their limbs around—Garth is peering out from behind the curtains with eyes wide; sorry, Garth. Your stage managing has obviously not prepared you for demon exorcisms. Charlie has knelt down and is shielding her face with her veil and Dean has come to stand in front of her protectively—which is good because a funnel of black smoke just then decides to shoot straight at Dean’s face. He’s not sure what a disembodied demon can do—will it be able to possess him or just strangle all of the breath out of his lungs? He doesn’t have to find out though, because there is a flurry of black wings and Castiel hits Dean hard around the chest, arms coming up and hands meeting in a forceful clasp around his beloved’s midriff. Dean’s calves thump into Charlie’s shoulders and she squeals and grabs his legs with both of her hands.

“Exorcizo te, omnis immundus spiritus,” Dean gasps out, trying to steady himself and avoid smashing Charlie into a gauzily veiled red-headed pancake on the surface of the stage. That would not be a good ending for the Blessed Virgin—even in this odd version of the Immaculate Conception and Birth of the Christ Child. Dean capitalizes all of the letters in his mind as he hears Balthazar’s fruity voice. Wait. Back to the task at hand…

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Castiel intones in that vibrant timbre. Charlie stares wildly from one to the other of them and shrieks in a most un-Marylike fashion: 

“What the hell are you guys doing??”

“Ergo, draco maledicte.” Zeke adds, vaulting up onto the stage from his spot down front with the rest of the chorus. Angela trails behind him, terror in her eyes, before spotting Charlie and grabbing hold of her roommate as if she never plans on letting go. Good, that way they’ll stay in one spot and be relatively safe, Dean thinks. But what’s the rest of the spell, dammit? Sammy had told him, but it’s just not coming… 

“Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, Quaeso ut audias me.” Ruby has come forward from her spot backstage, shedding her techie gear and standing strong, shouting out the end of Dean’s exorcism before beginning one of her own: “Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos, Regna terrae, cantata Dea psallite Aradia. Caeli Deus, Deus terrae, Humiliter majestati gloriae tuae supplicamus Ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, Laqueo, and deceptione nequitia, Omnis fallaciae, libera nos, dominates. Exorcizamus you omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, Omnis and congregatio secta diabolica. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, dominates, Ut coven tuam secura tibi libertate servire facias, Te rogamus, audi nos!” 

She is shaking now, as are all of the other demons; they are transfixed, their meatsuits frozen as the flickering demonic essences strain to break free from their fixed mortal boundaries. Dean watches in disbelief—this bitch is weaving a fucking magic spell! Her voice is strong and strident, compelling all of the demons to listen to her. Meg, the nearest demon, shrieks and stretches out her head and hands, reaching towards Angela, the closest human, who shrieks in horror as Zeke yanks her back out of the way. Ruby leaps forward now, smacking Meg flat onto the floor with a fist to her jaw. Sweat stands out on Ruby’s smooth face, her stormy hazel eyes dangerous and smooth lips parted in a snarl to invoke the rest of the exorcism: “Ut inimicos sanctae circulae humiliare digneris, Te rogamus, audi nos! Terribilis Deus Sanctuario suo, Cernunnos ipse truderit virtutem plebi Suae, Aradia ipse fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus, Gloria Patri, Benedictus Dea, Matri gloria!” As she forces this last phrase out, Ruby sinks to her knees, her demonic essence burning in her eyes as her human body cries out, writhing in terrible pain.

“Ruby?!?” Charlie shouts in response to this, extricating herself from Angela who has shrunk into a ball after being groped by Meg, and rushes to take both of Ruby’s clammy hands in hers. The demon girl does her best to smile.

“Hey, babe, I’m…sorry—but—this isn’t gonna work out. And I promise…it’s—not you, it’s—me.” She says that fucking line. And it’s kind of funny; Dean, at least, rolls his eyes; but it’s also heartbreaking because Ruby had done all of this for them, forsaken her own kind to help humanity, and now she’s being sent back to Hell for it. It isn’t fair.

“Cas,” Dean says in an undertone. His angel looks over at him instantly. “Can you do something?” Castiel nods. He has already seen fit to do this, but with Dean’s assent it seems to behoove them if he immediately goes to work. Dean clears his throat and moves downstage towards Ruby, who gives him a grimace that could possibly be a smile. “Hey,” Dean says gruffly. “So you did end up on our side after all. I’m impressed.” The blonde beauty snarls in pain and jerks up, her body still trying to expel the demonic spirit within it, but she is anchored both by Charlie’s hands and Dean’s voice and thus manages to choke out:

“I—told—you, I like—this body. Don’t want—any more…damn…wars.” Her voice peters off slightly, and Dean leans closer to hear the rest. She gives him another grin. “Besides, I—had to get—you to st-stop calling me—bitch.” 

“Well, you got your wish, bitch.” Dean says with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m sorry; I swear that was the last time. How the hell did you know that entire exorcism spell anyway??” She looks at him, the essence of life in those eyes slowly fading even as her gaze remains as irritated as ever, and grits out

“In my human life—I was—a witch.”

“That is so badass!” Charlie exclaims.

“A demon witch, well that figures,” Dean grumbles, and then Castiel pushes his way between them to stand in front of Ruby as she fades. Charlie scrambles quickly out of the way when the angel gently presses her shoulder with his right hand. Ruby looks up at Castiel without pleading, or groveling, or fearing. She looks up at him with—not resignation or contentment, Dean thinks—but something, some sort of understanding, seems to pass between his beloved and this demon before Castiel closes his eyes and places the first two fingers of his right hand upon Ruby’s forehead. He whispers something no one else can quite hear, but it jolts Ruby back to herself—her spirit has stopped fighting to get free, and as all of the other demonic essences rise and stream out of the auditiorium in black and red and yellow smoke, Ruby’s body relaxes, and the blackness settles once more into her eyes before they flicker back to their native hazel. She looks up at Castiel with the barest hint of a smile curling her thick lips.

“Thank you, angel,” she whispers, before flicking those eyes over to Dean. “And thank you too, dick.” Dean’s eyes widen and he grins in response to the wink she gives him after these words. Then he backs away to give her and Charlie some privacy—as much as he can when they’re all still onstage surveying the bodies that look like they’ve danced until they died (like in that one Halloween Bette Midler movie). Nevertheless he turns away from the loving demonstrations courteously and walks over to Castiel, who has gone to the edge of stage right, while Ezekiel does the same thing on stage left. Cas's blue eyes scan the entire auditiorium, to check if any demons have escaped, Dean guesses. His angel’s shoulders seem tense, but he has taken his wings out of the visible plane again and it is only his taut muscles and clenched fists that Dean is seeing. It is enough for him to firmly clasp Cas’s left shoulder, however, and then when the angel makes a slight movement, Dean moves to stand behind him and firmly massage the tenseness out of his back.

“How you doin’, Castiel?” Dean murmurs. “That was a hell of a thing you did back there.”

“A heavenly thing,” Castiel corrects. “As thanks and payment for a good deed performed. I hope I did right, but I am unsure of things sometimes, Dean. Like you, I have doubts.” He runs his fingers through his thick dark hair. “As of now, I do not know if we were able to deplete Lilith and Crowley’s forces enough to save Sam, let alone to protect humanity.”

“You really are a bundle of sunshine, aren’t you,” Dean mutters incredulously. “C’mon Cas, you’re the one who always tells me everything is gonna be okay! We did it! We got all these demons exorcised, so now we can go protect Sammy.” He spins the angel around and plants a firm kiss right on his lips, the adrenaline still pumping though his veins. He’s shivering, shaking, needing, but he is here with Cas and that’s all that matters. His angel is keeping him grounded, and if he has to keep Castiel positive, well, he’ll do it. He can feel Castiel’s tension slowly begin to ease, and he nibbles his lower lip to get an opening before easing his tongue into Cas’s mouth and then kissing him fiercely the way Castiel likes best. He feels his angel shiver and press closer to him, sucking his tongue down, clenching it with his teeth and making Dean groan way in the back of his throat as he clutches Castiel’s hair and thrusts himself even closer. Cas is still wearing his tiny little toga and damn if Dean doesn’t REALLY want to take it off of him, but unfortunately they don’t currently have the time…

“Hey, lovebirds,” says a snarky voice behind them. Ruby. “I hate to break up the celebration, but this party isn’t over yet. We may have sunk several of Crowley’s ships and he’s probably pissed, but he’s not dead yet. And neither is Lilith so we’re going to have to go where they’re headed next.”

“And that is?” Dean whirls, impatient, even though Ruby DID just save his life. Charlie is snuggled up next to Ruby and has her arms locked around her girlfriend’s waist as if she’s never going to let go. Charlie’s hair looks a bit messy and her face is flushed, Ruby’s lipstick smeared across her mouth. Jesus H. Christ. They both really need to work on exhibiting some restraint. 

“Think about this, Dean. Lilith seems to think some human is her secret weapon. The Boy King, the kid who drank Azazel’s demon blood as a baby. Your BROTHER. Sam. Obviously they’re on their way to wherever he is.” Sam. That snaps Dean back into action. He has to protect his little brother now, no matter what. 

“Where is Crowley right now? Does anyone know?” There is no immediate answer until the door at the back of the house bangs open and Dean half-expects to hear Balthazar yelling about turning up the lights, please darlings are we in the Stone Age, but instead it’s Anna and Gabriel rushing up the isle.

“Castiel, bad—news. Crowley escaped before the big—bang,” Anna gasps out. “Gabe followed him and—I told Michael. He’s arming himself—now. We’ve got to hurry. Zeke, your Clampits van has gas in it.” she catches her breath after reaching the stage and Zeke leaps down next to her. They pass a ring of keys to each other and it’s the quickest handoff Dean has ever seen. “What’s SHE still doing here? That is Ruby, right?” Anna asks Dean with her eyebrows raised. Dean nods.

“Yeah, it is. Cas saved her after she whipped out her own exorcism spell following mine and protected all our asses.” Anna grins in relief.

“Good. Ruby’s a decent demon; she saved my life once.” Dean really wants to get details about that, but at the moment they have more pressing problems.

“I need to hear all about this at some point. But hang on; does Gabe know where Crowley is going? How did he follow him and get back here so quickly?” Anna rolls her eyes.

“Of course he knows, genius. Crowley is headed for Sioux Falls. Gabe used his wings to get there, duh.” Oh yeah. Dean keeps forgetting that goofball Gabe is an angel as well.

“Well if he did that, why do we need Zeke’s van to get there?”

“Because I assume all of these ingrates are coming with us, and angels can’t do anything for awhile after zapping people someplace. Which isn’t gonna fly for us since we’re doubtless going to need to fight hordes of demons when we get there, right?”

“Yep. You know, Ruby, you and Charlie don’t need to come with us—it’s cool after what you just did for you to sit this one out,” Dean says as Charlie helps Ruby down from the stage. Ruby gives him the baleful eyes that he’s gotten so used to.

“You’ve got to be kidding—after seeing how useless you are here, I know you’re gonna need me if you want to survive. Plus, I’ve heard a lot of things about the Boy King down in Hell. It’ll be interesting to see if he lives up to all the hype.” Dean doesn’t like the way she says this one bit.

“So you’re going just to examine my brother like he’s a science experiment?”

“No, that’s why I’M going!” exclaims Charlie brightly. “Seriously, Dean, you’ve talked so much about your baby brother that I’ve got to see him just to make sure you weren’t lying about how great he is.”

“Well, who’s going to watch out for Angela? She looks like she’s gonna be sick.” They all look over at Angela, whose olive skin is now so pale that it appears green. Garth has knelt down next to her and is speaking in a low, gentle voice. He looks over at the rest of them. “How’s she doin’, Garth?” Dean asks.

“She may be going into shock, but don’t worry. I’ll watch over her and I can call Benny at the NA desk if we need anything. Go protect your brother, Dean.” Castiel goes over to speak to Angela as Dean replies to the stage manager,

“All right, thanks, man. Can you make sure that Balthazar doesn’t flip out on us too much for skipping out in the middle of the play? He isn’t coming, right?” 

“Of course he is, Dean.” intones Anna. “I know he doesn’t look it, but he’s actually pretty good in a fight.” Dean doesn’t bother to hide his skeptical smile.

“That’s how I felt a few millennia ago!” Gabriel crows. “But seriously, babe, he’s great. Ask your beau—he and Balthazar were really close once, right Cassy?” Dean frowns. How many angels were Cas ‘best buddies’ with in Heaven? And is his boyfriend blushing? Dean doesn’t get the chance to ask or tease him about it because Ezekiel pokes his head back in and yells at all of them.

“What’s the holdup?! We’ve gotta go save Sam!!!” and Dean is instantly moving down the aisle, almost bowling Anna over in his haste. Cas, Anna, Charlie, Ruby, and Gabe follow him and pile into the back of the rattletrap van that Zeke points out proudly. Michael raises his arms above his head where he is sitting in the middle row of seats and a silver sword flashes. “Hey hey, no scratching up Lola, okay? She’s got a few miles left in her yet. Dean, why don’t you sit up front and tell me where we need to go.”

“Zeke, don’t give me that bullshit; I know you’ve been to Bobby’s house recently.” The blond angel grins at him.

“That is correct, but if Gabriel sits up here I won’t be able to concentrate on driving. Plus I’ll let you man the radio.” Dean doesn’t object again. He gets in the shotgun seat without being told twice, leaving everyone else to curse at and pummel each other for places in the back. It ends up as Ruby, Charlie, and Anna in the very back row, with Castiel and Gabriel sitting next to Michael in the middle. Cas is on the right, Gabe in the middle kiddie seat, and Mike behind the driver.

“This has got to be the weirdest fucking road trip ever,” Dean mutters. “Angels and demons in the back seat and we’ve got a flaming sword…”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me—Dean, hand that duffel bag back to Gabe wouldja?” Zeke asks as he straps on his seatbelt and starts the car. “Seatbelts everyone,” The angel advises sternly as Dean reaches for a bag located between his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” mutters Gabe from the kiddie seat behind them. “Oooh! Did you get my horn, Ezekiel?? Muchas gracias,” He beams as Dean tosses the bag back to him.

“Your horn…?” Dean isn’t sure he heard that correctly, but Gabe comes up with a pale polished thing that looks rather like a cornucopia carved from bone. As he does this, Zeke admonishes,

“Don’t you blow that thing in here! Remember what happened last time.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Gabriel pouts and looks for a moment like he plans to disobey and blow the horn anyway when the blade of the silver sword snicks against his throat.

“Be careful, brother, I don’t want my hand to slip,” cautions Michael cooly. “That would be regrettable, spilling familial blood right before a battle.” That’s a little extreme, Dean thinks. He debates whether to say anything on behalf of Gabriel, who may be extremely annoying but doesn’t deserve to have his head cut off—and risk becoming a piece of Dean-beque as a result—but he doesn’t have to. 

“Are comments like that really necessary, Michael?” snaps Castiel. Dean prepares himself for an angelic battle, and Zeke is casting worried glances in the rearview mirror. Meanwhile there is a snuggle fest/giggle fight occuring in the very back. Gabe tries to soothe Castiel.

“S’okay Cassy, he’s just practicing the way he’ll be smiting demons, eh Mikey?” Michael glares darkly and doesn’t remove the sword from Gabriel’s throat.

“If you call me that detestable nickname again, I will complete my practice and smite YOU.”

“Whoa, man, you don’t have to get all up in arms over a nickname!” Dean says. “I call Castiel Cas and Gabriel Gabe all friendly-like. What’s the matter, Michael? Don’t you want your friends to give you a nickname? You’re a human now, man. Nicknaming is something humans do.” Michael looks perplexed. Maybe he’s never had friends before. Being God’s avenger must make him a real hoot at the dinner table—talking about all the sinners he smited that week with his flaming sword… Dean bites his lip and tries not to smile at the strain obviously occurring at that moment throughout the archangel’s entire being. He can almost see the angel’s essence thrumming as he tries to make sense of what he just heard from Dean.

“You mean, it is not meant in disrespect?” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Shit no, it’s a sign of affection, Michael. So why don’t you put your sword away for now.” Stupendously, amazingly, Michael does as Dean suggests. Dean’s breath whooshes out. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. He looks over at Cas, who reaches forward and presses his hand, face full of the specific brand of understanding that only Castiel has the ability to possess. Dean nods jerkily and turns back around in his seat as Gabe says

“Thanks, righteous man,” and immediately starts coming up with dozens of new nicknames for Michael that have the archangel gritting his teeth. Ezekiel sighs heavily. Dean knows exactly what he’s thinking and agrees wholeheartedly. This is going to be a very long ride.


	33. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and radical ideas

***  
Pulling up the long gravel driveway that leads to Bobby’s house through his car-filled junkyard on the following morning—after Zeke mutters a few things over his already-placed seal so that Ruby can pass across it unharmed—Dean’s eyes are wide and wary, having gotten a few hours of sleep as Zeke drove through the night to Sioux Falls—apparently angels have some energy boosting ability that Dean HAS to figure out at some point—checking for anything: movement in the trees, shadows on the ground where none should be, circles of dead grass and animals fleeing the property or dying on the spot, but thankfully he sees nothing of the kind. Yet.

“Let’s hope Zeke’s sigil will work, and maybe we won’t need to fight,” says Charlie wistfully from the back. Anna must have explained some things to her during the ride.

“Pfft, the fighting is the best part!” Gabe says. “Right, Mook?” Dear God, he is going to be killed. Who in the hell calls the protector of God Mook??? But Michael doesn’t look mad; he must’ve resigned himself to Gabriel’s stupid nicknames. He actually appears eager. That’s not even it, Dean decides. He looks…hungry.

“That’s right, Gabriel. And if you blow your horn it will be even better.”

“Hella YEAH!” Castiel sighs heavily as he watches his two angelic brethren. When Dean gives him a curious look, Castiel smiles slightly at him.

“I am a soldier, Dean, but I do not relish fighting. During the midst of battle, yes, there is a rush; a high, a feeling of satisfaction to smite someone who has done evil things…but it is dangerous, especially for me, to relish it too much.” Dean thinks he understands what Castiel means, and reaches back to squeeze his hand. Cas puts his other hand on top of Dean’s and presses down as if he plans to pull Dean into his own body. Dean nods firmly.

“Well, if you find yourself enjoying it too much, I’ll be there to stop you, man. I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate that. And I shall be there for you.” The full import of this statement shines in the angel’s eyes, and Dean feels like his soul understands. Like there is this connection between them; warm and fleeting, but not merely physical. Before he can ask Castiel about this or think about it any further, Zeke parks his Clampit van next to Bobby Singer’s ramshackle house.

“We’re here!” He announces, leaping out of the driver’s seat and rolling back the door for easy egress. “Everybody out!”

“This is your house, Dean?” Anna asks incredulously, wrinkling her nose after appraising it. “It’s so…southern.”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘southern’?” Dean asks sharply. “Should I be offended?”

“Well it looks hillbilly, you know. A mountain house, where people play the banjo and don’t know how to read.” Dean scowls and then says with a snort,

“Well that’s DEFINITELY not the case here. You’ve met Bobby before; my uncle. This is his house.” Anna’s eyebrows rise up almost to her hair. She doesn’t look all that impressed yet, but Dean remembers that she was pretty toasted when she met Bobby for the first time. (Do angels even get toasted or had she just been messing with him to hook up like Sam said?) Charlie looks around the property excitedly and then beams at Dean.

“I like it!”

“You would,” Ruby smirks, and gets a playful smack from her girlfriend.

“Of course I would. It’s charming and quaint.”

“THANK you, Charlie. Take notes, Anna; that is the proper way to speak about my uncle’s house.” Anna just rolls her eyes.

When everyone is together—Gabe and Michael stowing the horn and the sword in Ezekiel’s duffle bag so as not to freak anyone (like Jessica) out—Dean lets out a breath and knocks on the door. They wait for what seems like forever…Bobby doesn’t have doorbells, Dean explains, because he doesn’t deal well with telemarketers. If anyone comes to his door trying to sell something, they would ring a bell five thousand times, but will only knock once or twice. “And then he has his shotgun,” Dean says with a grin. Charlie’s eyes are wide.

“Has he ever actually shot anybody?”

“I’ll let him tell ya that, Charlie.”

“Let me tell what, buddy boy?” the door has opened behind Dean as he talks and the way he whips around is almost comical before he grabs Bobby in a quick tight hug. “It’s good to see ya, Dean.” Bobby Singer looks behind his adopted nephew and sighs though his nose. “And the Brady Bunch too, of course.” He nods to each person in turn, at times extending a hand as Dean introduces the new faces of Ruby and Charlie. Ruby’s handshake is last, and when he touches her, Bobby stiffens. It’s an instinctive reaction and suddenly there is a shotgun pointed at her face. Charlie squeaks. “Demon!” Bobby barks. “Are you SERIOUS, Dean?? I know you’re not a hunter, but can’t you angels tell when there’s a demon in your midst, dammit?!” Dean almost has to laugh even though this situation is far from funny. Castiel comes forward though and firmly pushes the gun barrel away.

“Mr. Singer,” Castiel intones firmly, “Yes, we know what Ruby is. We also know that she would have exorcised herself to save our lives. Which she nearly did, and it was only my applied Grace that allowed her to remain in this mortal body. She is on our side, sir.” Bobby’s eyes are wide, the only testament to his complete and utter shock.

“SHE performed an exorcism?! Damn!”

“It was a powerful one, too,” Dean adds. “Much more powerful then the one Sammy got for me. Ruby was a witch in her human life, so she has some pretty special powers now.”

“I’LL say,” mutters Bobby, looking at Ruby with a hint of respect behind his beard and in his eyes (which nobody recognizes except for Dean). “Well, you’d better come in.”

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asks suddenly. “I figured he’d’ve come to the door by now. Or is he making out with Jessica somewhere?” Bobby rolls his eyes.

“No, you idjit, Sam’s been teaching Jessica to shoot. They were around the back and should be headin’ this way right about now.” Sure enough, Dean hears his brother’s voice, babbling about nerdy shit as per usual. He hears a girl’s bright laughter and can’t help smiling. The two of them come around the corner of the house and Dean is off the porch and running to meet them. Jessica is on the right and therefore closer to him, so Dean grabs her in a tight hug. She is totally surprised and can’t even hug back.

“Jessica, it’s good to see you.”

“Dean.” She gasps. “You’re crushing me.”

“Sorry!” he lets go but keeps his hands on her arms. “Let me look at ya.”

“A simple handshake would’ve been fine,” His brother says, disapproving. “I mean, she only talked to you on the phone once. Jesus, Dean. What’s gotten into you?” Dean just shakes his head and grabs his little brother in a tight embrace as well. This might be the last time he sees them, Dean thinks. He wants nothing but happiness for them and he had caught a glimpse of it just now.

“Nothing, Sam. I’ve gotta give the girl some sort of reward for dating your bitch ass! Plus it’s just…been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, it’s a great family reunion, to catch up with each other whilst fighting demons,” Gabriel cracks, and Dean remembers his friends are there.

“Oh, sorry guys. These are my friends. Sam, you’ve met most of ‘em except Ruby and Charlie here…”

“Hi Sam!” chirps Charlie in greeting. “Dean’s told me so much about you!”

“Anything good?” Sam asks hesitantly. Charlie chuckles.

“Mostly, mostly.”

“Jessica, this is Michael, Gabriel, Anna (Anaiel), Charlie, Ezekiel—he likes to be called Zeke—and Ruby. Oh, and Castiel, of course. This is Sam’s wondrous girlfriend Jessica, everybody.” Jess blushes and waves hello to them all. Dean looks around and realizes something. “Where’s Balthazar? I thought you guys said he was coming.”

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Zeke promises. “I gave him the address.”

“He just wants to make an entrance,” Gabriel grins. “He’s not as flashy as I am, but whatever.” 

“Of course, of course, no one can pass Gabriel in the art of narcissism.”

“It’s an art?” Sam asks quietly.

“Oh, for Gabe here it is,” Dean mutters. Castiel has gone over and is speaking quietly to Jess. Dean notices. “Good ol’ Cas. He’s probably making sure she’s okay. I was worried about Charlie,” but since she’s now laughing with Anna and looking Michael’s sword over appreciatively… “But I think she’s okay.” Sam laughs.

“I think she is too. She seems like a cool person, Dean.”

“Yeah, and she’s my only human friend,” Dean jokes. Sam stares at him.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, my buddy Garth is apparently a werewolf, and my other friend Benny is a vampire. I just got accepted into the weird supernatural school.”

“What does that say about you?” Sam muses, and gets himself a pec punch from his brother. “Ow!”

“Hey, idjits!!! Get in this house, we’ve gotta go over our battle plan!” Bobby barks from the doorway.

“Okay, Bobby, we’ll be there in a sec!” As Dean turns to head inside there is a loud rumble that sounds like the purring of a gigantic jungle cat. “What the…?” Dean swivels around to see a motorcycle speeding up the hill. Zeke sighs.

“There you go, Dean. Balthazar’s entrance.” Wearing a fucking ascot, no less Balthazar does quite a jump from the crest of the hill and skids to a stop in front of the group, wearing a tailored jacket that has the girls commenting appreciatively on his style. Balthazar cuts the engine and kicks out the stand in a single fluid motion before coming up to Zeke and Dean.

“Buenas dias, muchachos! It’s a nice day to a-smite demons!” He kisses Ezekiel on both cheeks before coming over and doing the same to Dean. Dean wipes his face as Balthazar turns to kiss Castiel too and misses his right cheek, kissing him on the lips instead. Dean makes a sharp movement towards the scruffy British angel, who recognizes his mistake and backs up, leaving Castiel visibly flustered. “Ah, and who might these pretty people be?” he asks after spotting Jessica and Sam. Sam clears his throat and looks over at Dean to see if he’s going to introduce them, but his big brother is still glaring at Balthazar. Sam takes the plunge and puts out his hand for a shake.

“Hello, I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my girlfriend, Jessica Moore.”

“Greetings!” Balthazar beams, pumping Sam’s hand brightly. “Excellent to meet you, most excellent. Bonjour, ma Cherie,” he purrs at Jessica, gallantly (or creepily) kissing her hand. Jessica blushes bright red.

“All right, all right, let’s move it inside,” Dean gets out tightly, green eyes resting coldly on Balthazar’s face—both for his kissing Cas and causing Jess discomfort. Sam and Jess both shoot him grateful looks as Dean takes Jessica’s hand out of Balthazar’s and puts it gallantly beneath his own arm. “You old smoothie,” he mutters darkly, getting a half-laugh, half-cough out of his younger brother. Sam understands the Star Wars reference all too well. Everyone troops inside, Balthazar getting a hard once-over from Bobby who at last seems to decide that the angel is a (mostly) harmless fruitcake. They have all gathered around the desk in Bobby’s front room when there’s a rap-tap-tapping on the back door. Dean is ready to fire his uncle’s shotgun, but Bobby shakes his head at him and Ellen and Jo Harvelle enter the home.

“Dean!” Jo yells with a bright grin and punches him on the arm. “Good to see you! How’s college going?”

“Hey, Jo,” he greets her with a swift hug after her fists stop swinging “well, I haven’t been driven insane by the workload yet. Though today might change the insanity part,” he mutters and then looks sharply at her. “Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, Mom really wanted to see Bobby,” replies Jo with a smirk. “And after hearing about the fight you goofs have planned, we figured you could use a little help.”

“Wait,” sputters Sam, who has come up behind Dean to say hello to Jo, “you and your mom are—hunters—as well?”

“Hell yeah! You don’t think hunting’s just for guys, do you?” Dean, who had seen his mom’s abilities firsthand, wordlessly shakes his head and Sam says

“N-no, of course not.”

“Good.” Jo smirks. “Because I will own both your asses at bullseyeing demons, just you wait.”

“Are you sure we should be gambling on this…?” Sam asks as Dean grins and slaps a fiver into Jo’s palm. “Obviously, yes. Is there anyone else who is slightly nervous about, uh, smiting people? These demons inhabit human bodies, you know! Are we really just going to shoot them??” He is visibly distraught by this, and Jessica pats his arm. Ruby notices and wends her way through the crowd of people and leers at him.

“I think that’s where you come in, Boy King.”

“What? What did you just call me…‘Boy King’ for?”

“Because that’s what you are.” She gives him a slow smile. “That’s what the demon blood inside you is for. You have powers, Sam. I know that you’re already aware of this. Visions and psychokinesis are just the first. You have the ability to control demons. You can exorcise them with the power of your mind.” Sam sucks in his breath and his eyes widen. He leans away from Ruby as if that will erase her words. Castiel has heard the tail end of her comment and pushes his way over to them, a frown clouding his brow.

“What is it you are suggesting he do? Do you not understand the horrid temptation of such power?? I would think that YOU would fully comprehend such things, witch woman.” He says this as if it is her title, but Jessica still takes a sharp intake of breath in shock. Castiel seems like such a sweetheart, but in his eyes now is a flinty glimmer of badassery. “I will not allow that temptation to happen to Sam.” He glances at the young Winchester and Sam feels a warm twinge of gratitude for his brother’s boyfriend. Ruby just folds her arms and stares him down.

“Of COURSE you won’t let that happen, O so righteous angel, but you do realize that this is not going to be like last time? No, Lilith is bringing her best legions and if you think we can beat them because we have a hyperactive horn blower and an asshole with a flaming sword…” she shakes her head and laughs grimly “…you are obviously blinded by your own divinity.” Castiel makes a sharp threatening movement towards Ruby, his face dark with righteous anger.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Dean says, quickly inserting himself between Ruby and Cas. “Hang on a minute there, buddy. Let’s all take deep breaths, shall we? Can’t you just perform another exorcism?” He asks Ruby. She snarls.

“I COULD, but this is a much larger area, and there will be a LOT of demons to contend with. Hard as it may be for you to believe this, I just might not be able to CONcentrate.” Dean makes a sarcastic face at her and pans his gaze around the room, thus recognizing the instant Sam’s brain starts working.

“Bobby, do you still have those humongous old speakers out in the garage?” Bobby snorts and folds his arms.

“Kid, I’ve been a hoarder since before you or your brother were even born. ‘Course I have ‘em.”

“Okay, aside from my uncle’s questionable mental state and lifestyle choices, we now have the means to put a plan in motion—Dean, can you wire the speakers up so that they’ll be able to broadcast a recording on repeat when a certain action is performed?”

“Easy as pie. What’ve you got in your head, little brother?” Sam turns to look at Ruby excitedly.

“So get this—you can record yourself performing an exorcism right now, Ruby. No distractions—” (he shakes a finger at Charlie kiddingly), “No demons, just your voice to broadcast on repeat…and when all of the demons are in range we can send their sorry butts right back to Hell!” Ruby eyes Sam appraisingly? Admiringly? Dean isn’t quite sure, but he hasn’t seen his brother this worked up since last year when he needed a ride to school early on a Saturday morning in order to take the SAT and their father refused point-blank to give him one. Anyway, this time it is different; Sam is worked up with excitement rather than anger. The look between him and Ruby has lasted a smidgen too long, however, and Jess is looking daggers at the two of them. But the demon girl isn’t quite done.

“Interesting. You are something else, Sam Winchester. All the talk about you back home didn’t do you justice.”

“Back home—in Hell??” Jessica sputters.

“Of course.” Ruby rolls her eyes.

“What—how did you all know about Sam? Were you keeping tabs on him?!” Jess is in a fury.

“Calm down, sweetness. We had to. The Boy King is pretty freakin’ important.”

“But it’ll be over after today, right? You will leave him alone?” Ruby smirks which infuriates Jessica. She grabs Bobby’s rifle, which Dean had not thought to remove from its corner, and cocks it before aiming straight at the demon’s face. “Don’t test me, Ruby,” she says coldly and quietly. “I’ve taken pot-shots at soda cans out back and didn’t miss a single one, so I’m sure I can hit you in the eye easily. Now if you’re really on our side, since I wasn’t present to see the great theater-wide exorcism, you have to prove it to me—you will ensure that no one spies on Sam, makes contact with him, or harms him in any way after this afternoon. Otherwise, I will hunt you down and exorcise you myself.” There is a minute of impressed silence after this speech…at least it is impressed on Dean’s end of things. Sam has come up behind Jess and puts a soothing, steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Another addition to this contract,” he says quietly. “You have to ensure protection for Jessica too. I’ve researched demons, and your kind has been known to circumvent deals and hurts the person by coming after the people they love.” He glances over at Dean with so much emotion, Dean has to turn away to wipe his eyes.

“Dammit Sammy,” he mutters. Castiel moves over to take Dean’s hand. Dean is grateful for this. Ruby appears to be pondering Sam and Jess’ demands.

“I have one condition. Just one. You will perform the exorcism with me, Sam. You are the Boy King and as such bear the most powerful voice.”

“Oh hell no you don’t—” growls Dean immediately, heading towards the center of the room to protect his brother. Somehow. Cas stops him.

“Wait a moment, Dean.”

“For what? For Sammy to make a stupid decision and endanger himself?”

“He’s old enough to make this choice for himself, Dean. Do you trust him?” This question brings the older Winchester up short. Yes, of course he trusts Sam; but he has to look out for him—he just HAS to. Sooo…that doesn’t really count as trusting him, does it? Well, shit; Dean glances over at Bobby but their father figure’s face is impassive. Damn that beard—if there was ever a time Dean needed to know what his surrogate uncle was thinking it is right now. But Sam nods tersely at Ruby, and Jess watches their proceedings carefully. Dean relaxes ever-so-slightly. At least he isn’t the only person in Sam’s corner that is insanely concerned for the shaggy-haired knucklehead. The two of them go to Bobby’s ‘panic room’ to do some sound recording. Dean doesn’t really like the sound of a panic room, but Bobby knows best; it’s his house, after all. Cas, Jo, and Charlie accompany Dean out to the garage to watch him really jerry-rig a set of speakers.

“These things are the real deal, man. Look at ‘em—I bet they were used at Woodstock or somethin’. Who knows if they’re still in working condition…” Dean ducks underneath one and comes out with a screwdriver and a wrench, grinning happily. “We’re gonna find out!”


	34. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soothing a shattered heart

***  
While Dean is working to clear out the speaker insides and Castiel hands him tools, Jo and Charlie have a chance to talk a bit. They begin to have some admiration for one another—Charlie admires Jo’s tough girl act and warm, caring interior; Jo admires Charlie’s ability to say whatever she thinks and to embrace her insecurities and fearfulness. 

“When Ruby was exorcising herself, I—I was terrified. I had no idea what these crazy boys were up to, and to see my techie girlfriend go all tough and get rid of EVERY DEMON in the auditorium…kinda like Max did in that Mostly Ghostly movie…” Jo snorts with laughter. “What?” Charlie asks defensively. “You didn’t watch Mostly Ghostly on the Disney channel? My poor girl, what even was your childhood like?” Jo’s smile pales and fades a little, and Charlie could kick herself. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” she says, reminding herself of the first conversation she had with Dean. And also remeniscient of Dean is Jo Harvelle’s reply:

“Nah, it’s fine. I can tell you that my childhood was pretty screwed up. Not my mom’s fault; it was my dad’s. He—he left us. Was always on the job but didn’t seem to get that he was doing things for FAMILY, you know. I mean he was glad to see us whenever he came home, but it was never for very long…my mom and I got into hunting in order to be close to him, but he wouldn’t let us help him with the the really dangerous jobs, and one day—” Jo turns away sharply, her blonde hair veiling her anguished face as she pounds the workbench where they are sitting; “that stupid mistake cost him his life. We should’ve been there, we could’ve HELPED him, but he was too concerned with our safety and well-being.”

“So it seems like your dad really did love you, then.” Charlie says gently and quietly.

“I guess,” Jo grumbles, scowling. “Fat lot of good it did him.”

“Yeah, but sometimes that’s…not really the point, you know?” Charlie says this in such a way that Jo feels the need to put a bracing arm around her.

Charlie takes a sharp breath. “My—my parents were killed in a car crash. The wreck—a giant truck totaled our car, it was raining, my father didn’t see the changing light—but do you know the worst part?” Charlie is gasping and crying now. “They were coming to my play! I was in a musical at school, and I really wanted them to come and see it, and because they loved me so much they did—and it’s my fault they’re dead!”

“No it isn’t, Charlie…”

“It IS! If I hadn’t begged them to come, they would never have been driving that night! Do you know what I said? I said to my mom, ‘if you don’t care enough to come see me in the play, then I’ll never speak to you again’. I said that, I said it, and now it’s true! I’ll never be able to speak to her again, or hug her or play games with her or tell her how much I love her. My dad too; I can’t go riding in the Jeep with him on his weekends off, when we would go fishing and he’d ask me about all my girlfriends. He was always teasing me about having a lot of female friends after I came out. ‘You got anything going with any of them?’ he’d say. I’d be like no Dad of course not! And he always grinned and said, ‘then what’s the point???’” She is smiling and hiccoughing and crying all at once, and Dean and Cas have stopped working to come over and are watching and listening to her with concern. Dean puts his sweaty arm around Charlie’s shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair. Castiel finds a rag that isn’t too covered with grease and oil and hands it to the redhead with a look of such pure kindness that she takes it without a murmur. “Thanks, guys,” she gives them all a wobbly smile. “I’m—I’m all right now.”

“You sure?” Jo asks carefully.

“It is perfectly natural for you to be in a compromised emotional state at this moment in time, Charlie.” Castiel intones seriously. “We are preparing for an epic battle, after all.” Dean glares at him and Jo laughs.

“Wow, you truly are a ray of sunshine!” Castiel looks both puzzled and hurt.

“Was that not the correct thing to say?” Charlie smiles and pats his arm.

“No, it was fine. Thank you, Castiel. We’re totally like the Fellowship from Lord of the Rings!”

“I wanna be Eowyn. Called it!”

“Aw man, I was gonna say that.”

“She’s not technically part of the Fellowship though…”

“What am I supposed to be or do in the scenario at hand here?”

“You can be Legolas; or Gimli—the forever grumpy dwarf, Cas,” Dean grins at him. Charlie claps her hands.

“I’ve got it! YOU are Legolas, Dean. Always dancing around light on your feet, ready and willing to show off.”

“Yes and with that gorgeous long flowing blond hair,” adds Jo serenely and she and Charlie erupt in giggles, Charlie still wiping tears from her eyes. Dean rolls his own.

“Fine fine, does that mean Sammy is Aragorn then?” They all get quiet.

“He does have a heck of a task to do,” Charlie says solemnly.

“Big shoes to fill, being the Boy King and all,” adds Jo.

“But he’ll kick ass and prevail in spite of the odds!” crows Dean. Would it kill any of them to have at least a LITTLE BIT of optimism?? “And plus he’s got a sexy lady who’s not gonna wait in the house for him like Arwen waited in Rivendell—Jess’ll be blasting demons left and right with Bobby’s salt-rock rifle.”

“Arwen could totally kick butt though, if she wanted.”

“Of course she could, there’s no doubt in my mind.”

“She’s the daughter of Elrond, for the Shire’s sake.”

“And an Elvish princess! She got her dad to let her be mortal—I think she pretty much does what she wants!”

“I have no conception of this. What is Lord of the Rings?”

“You haven’t—ohhh Dean, you’re a travesty! I thought I could trust you, that we were bonded in the blood of geekery together!”

“…that’s not a thing.”

“It’s TOTALLY a thing, but you ruined it, Dean Winchester! Why have you not—HOW can you not have yet initiated Castiel into the wonders of the master wordsmith that is J. R. R. Tolkien???” Dean raises his hands defensively.

“We were busy with our classes…and, uh, other things. Plus, I don’t really know how long he’s staying—here. Will you quit school after this semester and return to Heaven, Cas?” Castiel is confused.

“Do you wish for me to do that, Dean?”

“No, I just—kinda figured you would. You did your duty, right? Found me and enlisted me to do the great work of en mass demon exorcism to protect my little brother and the world as well?” Dean sounds bitter about that, and it’s true, he is bitter. How would you like it if you get a boyfriend who is so damn perfect that you can’t help but think he was sent from Heaven, to discover that he was, in fact, sent from Heaven, and will most likely have to return there after his earthly task is done?

“What is it like, anyway?” Jo asks slowly. They all look at her; Castiel is still working through Dean’s previous words with a frown. “Heaven?” Castiel thinks about that question furiously for a moment, his brow creased in consternation and concentration.

“I am attempting to figure out how to explain it in your human conception.” Jo leans over to poke and whisper to Dean.

“Translation?”

“He’s trying to find the right words,” Dean mutters.

“Heaven is, ah…clean and clear and bright. There is whiteness in it, but whiteness in which you can see all of the colors in the spectrum extending within that light, rather than whiteness as the absence of color. It is orderly and organized. Soldiers of God are stationed in garrisons about the edges, and Saint Peter keeps the gates shined and polished perfectly.”

“Do you angels just sit around and strum harps eternally?”

“No, not all of us; there is a specific choir for that, and they have recently discovered …more contemporary music.” Castiel sounds rueful about this. Jo leans forward, interested.

“What type of modern music?”

“Guitar and ukulele pieces, mostly. From what I have heard, one of the seraphs in charge has discovered a family called Mumford and Sons. I do not understand what this family has to do with strumming acoustic guitars.” The three humans shake their heads ruefully and chuckle at this clueless angel.

“Cas, ‘Mumford and Sons’ is the name of a band,” Dean finally says, gazing at his boyfriend with a look of pity.

“Yeah, and most of the people who like them are hipsters or wannabe hipsters,” Jo says, wrinkling her nose. Charlie gives her a look of outrage.

“I like them! Are you calling me a wannabe hipster??” Jo raises her eyebrows and taps the thick dark frames of Charlie’s glasses with her finger.

“I don’t know, but are these lenses prescription?” Charlie swats Jo’s hand away and sticks out her tongue at the blonde girl. Jo starts laughing. “If the shoe fits…” Dean grins at them until Castiel touches his arm and murmurs,

“Dean, may I speak to you for a moment alone?”

“’Course, Cas. Well, I think these speakers are all wired. Jo, would you take Charlie back to the house and let Sam know I’ve got these ready for him?” Jo sniffs and gives him an affronted look.

“I’ll have you know I’m not here just to run your errands, Dean Winchester.” She hops off of her seat on the workbench. “But I’ll do it just this once. Come on, Charlie. See you guys in a bit.” 

“You’re a peach,” Dean tells his friend, kissing her on the cheek. Jo rolls her eyes at him. Charlie looks back at Dean and Castiel as she exits the free-standing garage with one eyebrow raised in a knowing way, like: ‘Oh you boys aren’t fooling me; I know you’re sending us away so you can make out.’ That isn’t actually the case, but Dean doesn’t have the time or patience to correct all of his friend’s misconceptions. “All right, I’m all yours, Cas.” Dean puts down his oily rag and leans against the workbench that Jo and Charlie have just vacated. Castiel seems to be rocking back and forth on his feet and fiddles with the sleeves of his trench coat almost nervously. These actions are so incredibly human that it makes Dean’s gaze soften and he is hard-pressed not to smile at his beloved angel… except the solemn, pensive look on Castiel’s face pretty much completely forbids this reaction. “What’s goin’ on, buddy?”

With a catch of hurt obvious in his voice, the angel says, “Dean… do you really think, after all of this is done, that I will have no wish to remain here on Earth and will just—leave you—to return to Heaven?” Dean blows out a long breath.

“No, that’s not it, Cas, I—”

“Because I assure you it is not my intention to leave you in the near future, or at all,” Castiel quickly promises, words spewing from his mouth so fast that Dean feels like he has to back up to avoid them, as if they have acquired a physical form, emphasizing Castiel’s confusion and pain. “I don’t know why you would think—where you would get the idea that angels are faithless beings—that we could form attachments and then forsake them once our DUTIES are done. Not angels in general, but specifically me. I love you, Dean. I will not leave you if you wish me to stay. But if you wish me gone, say so now and I will willingly depart from you, though it breaks my heart….” He would continue this discourse, but Dean has caught him up in his strong sweaty arms and plants a kiss on Castiel’s forehead. Cas finds that he is shaking, a sensation rushing through his veins that he has never felt before, not even when he first explained to Dean that he was an angel. Panic—that is the word for what he is feeling at this moment. He is having a panic attack. Dean can tell, and so holds the angel tight in his arms and rocks him gently back and forth.

“Shh, easy there, angel. I got it, okay. I’m not leaving you, you’re not leaving me, everything’s hunky-dory and we’re gonna have a long happy life together.” Castiel closes his eyes and swallows, focusing on the roughness of Dean’s stubble rubbing against his own smooth cheek, the strength of Dean’s arms encircling him, and the gentleness of the righteous man’s voice as he begins softly singing, “‘Hey Jude, don’t make it bad / just take a sad song and make it better. / Remember to let her into your heart / then you can start to make it better.’” It may be stupid, but this was the song that Dean’s mother sang to him every night when he was a small child. That sweet melody would send him right off to sleep without a care in the world, and Dean tries to capture those feelings now while singing Castiel out of his panic attack.


	35. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle prep

***  
Back in the house there is a bit of a tiff going on about who is going to patrol the perimeter of Bobby’s land, crawling over junked out old cars and forcing their way through the woods. Ezekiel offers to do this because he has already cased the property to put his sigils around it, he said. Michael, always willing to be the first to take a swing at any demons who show up, also volunteers. Jo is next, and that is where the fight comes in because Balthazar also has some bones to pick with the demonic horde and has been in large-scale battles like this before up in Heaven (or so he said). Jo’s hackles are way way up because the tone with which he says those things makes it sound like “it’s too dangerous for a fragile young girl to do this kind of job”. Sam and Ruby have just completed their exorcism recording, and now Sam is bodily holding on to Jo’s midriff so that she doesn’t knock out too many of Balthazar’s teeth. He is looking taken aback as he clutches a freely-bleeding nose. Ruby is extremely amused and none of the other angels look at all concerned. Anna tells Jess privately that Balthazar has had that a long time coming—he’s just lucky his disparaging comments about women didn’t have Anna herself after him first.

“All RIGHT! Calm down, you idjits!!” Bobby’s voice brings everyone back, even Dean and Cas, who had remained in the garage a bit longer to stop the panic attack. “We aren’t gonna be any good against this demonic horde if we can’t stop fighting each other over every little detail! Sam, you have that recording? Good. Dean, stop making heart eyes at your boyfriend and load this up, will ya? Jo, why don’t you case the perimeter with Ezekiel, and Michael and FrootLoop, you do the same.” He glares around the room at everyone. “Work the yard in alternating pairs so no one and nothing gets missed. Is that clear??”

“Indubitably,” Balthazar says cheerily. “Tally-ho, Michael, we’re off to kill some demons!” He links arms with his angelic brother and skips out the door. Jo has forgone being miffed for the moment and is speaking to her mother in an undertone. Jessica has begun cleaning out Bobby’s gun, and Castiel goes over to her and offers his help. She enlists him and Ruby to gather all of the other weapons and bring them to her at the kitchen table. Jo had given her and Charlie a quick tutorial on cleaning and loading guns. If a gun hasn’t been fired in ages and is corroded with rust, it can hurt the person firing it as much as it hurts the entity receiving the salt bullet in its brain. Safety is paramount, and with Ellen eyeing their work, the four young’uns set to a’cleaning and a’loading each gun. Bobby checks on every entrance to his house, spreading generous amounts of salt in front of the windows and doors. At last, they feel prepared for the battle to come.


	36. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More battle prep, and then the fight begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I experimented with a more omniscient version of 3rd person limited point-of-view. Basically, I have included the thoughts of multiple characters. Whenever you see this ~ a new character's thoughts and feelings are introduced.

***  
And the wait doesn’t last very long.

Jo and Zeke have just made their third round about the house and the yard(s)—one of junk, one of cars; though both could be considered junk, and there is another yard just full of junky cars, Jo had pointed out with a smile—when there is a change in the air, a whisper of death and doom. The grass within and beyond the woods makes a crackling noise, and the appearance of brown and blight spreads out from the sigils that Zeke had made. They are coming.

“Not just coming, chaps,” Balthazar pants as he skids to a stop behind Zeke, Michael striding resolutely after waving his flaming sword, “I believe they are already here.”

This is evidenced more clearly when the face of Lilith appears from within an old ash tree’s trunk. “The Boy King—where—we have come for him—where is he?”

“Nowhere for you to find, creepy lady,” Jo says loudly. “He’s being protected by all of us. So if you want to draft him to your little fantasy demon team, you’ll have to go through me.”

“Spite…such spark and spite…you would make a good demon, girl…”

“I’d be flattered by that, if I was a brain-dead psychopath who’d been in a coma for ten years!” Jo yells, almost cheerfully. “As it is, I think I’ll pass.” With the quickest draw the three angels have ever seen, she raises her gun and fires, forcing Lilith’s incorporeal form to dissipate. “That isn’t gonna hold her back for long; she was just pissing me off.” Jo says over her shoulder. “One of you needs to get back to the house and tell the others.”

“I’m on it,” Zeke says, “but I’ve got a quicker way to contact them.”

~Castiel! He shouts in his mind.   
There is no time to bring himself into a truly calm angelic trance; he has to hope that his intense emotion is strong enough to get past and break Castiel’s conscious barrier. It does—Castiel has been standing beside Jessica at the kitchen table, handing her unloaded weapons, when all of a sudden his eyes bulge and his skin blanches white. He reaches out for the back of a nearby chair to steady himself, and Dean, who has just returned from loading up the exorcism into the newly jerry-rigged player in Bobby’s garage, sees his boyfriend’s expression change and flies across the room to grab Cas by the shoulder and elbow.

“What’s wrong, Cas? What is it, man?”

“Ezekiel,” Castiel gasps, so startled that he forgets to say Zeke. “He just—contacted—me. I need to quiet my brain for a response.” Dean nods, not entirely sure what the angel means, but standing solidly beside him anyhow. 

~What is it? What is the matter, Zeke?  
~Demons. Lilith is here. Jo just shot her with rock-salt, but the blight has started and she will be back.  
~Understood. I will tell the others. Be careful, brother.  
~You as well, Castiel.

“They are here, the demons. Blight has begun spreading across the grass,” Castiel reports this after opening his eyes to register the concerned and curious faces around him.

“That’s it, then. Good luck, chumps,” Ruby says, handing a just-loaded gun to Charlie and nodding at Jess to take one for herself as well. 

“I really hope you meant to say ‘champs’, babe,” Charlie mutters to her girlfriend before knocking on the wood of the back door to alert Ellen in the bunker she has made outside that she wishes to join the elder Harvelle. Bobby takes his high-powered binoculars over to the window and sweeps his gaze across the amount of yard that he can see. Sam gulps and looks at his older brother with eyes wide and panicked for an unguarded instant, until Dean reaches out and grasps his shoulder firmly.

“We’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” he says quietly. “You won’t be going with them. I’ll make sure of it.” The look in his eyes is serious—stripped away are all of Dean’s jokes and personal insecurities—the only thing that matters now is taking care of his little brother. He has to protect Sam no matter what it costs him personally. Before this day is over, he will make sure his brother is free and safe from the demons that pursue him.

And boy, they are coming now—tons of them, appearing and marching forward in raggedy ranks, their eyes pure black or red or even yellow, Zeke says, though those are often the commanders of groups and do not normally lead an attack but instead follow behind with orders for their soldiers. The only problem is, these soldiers don’t really listen to their superiors and often go AWOL to satisfy their own particular desires. That makes a demonic army even more lethal and dangerous than an angelic one of the same size, even as it is disorganized and disorderly. Angels at least fight with a semblance of honor at their core; demons just don’t care.  
~  
John Winchester saved the day.

Well, not really. Dean only—almost, totally secretly—wishes he had. The demons were pushing past Zeke’s seal, weakening it with their magic…. Obviously Ruby wasn’t the only demon witch around; Crowley’s mother was apparently also one, a heinous woman by the name of Sycorax who’d also fathered a much more well-known demon by the name of Caliban (who was written about by a very famous British playright). Dean doesn’t really give two shits about this and says that much to his professor as well as a few other things after he rushes out of the house: “Exi, impie, exi, scelerate, exi cum Omnia fallacia tua (Depart, impious one, depart, accursed one, depart with all your deceits).” The twenty-year-old snarls. “I memorized that one just for you, Crowley! I think that means you have to give me an A!” The professor dodges a bundle of rock salt doused in holy flames and nods at his student approvingly as if they are still in class.

“Brava, Dean. I see you have at last mastered the present tense.”

“Well this is the last time I’m gonna fucking use it since I don’t have to take this language next semester!” Dean smirks, ducking a return curse from one of Crowley’s ‘backup singers’—as he thinks of them—a pentagram of sexy young witch women surrounding their leader with shielding magic. It is really starting to piss Dean off because he wants to go directly after Lilith; as far as he is concerned, SHE is the biggest immediate threat to his little brother’s safety, but Crowley is in the way with his smarmy British commands and insults:

“Get a zinger right in there, love, that’s it. Here, darling, send a shot right at that blond one, why don’t you? The meek little Papa’s boy—just like this one here;” speaking of Dean and jerking his chin at Zeke, who unfortunately because of his vessel’s size presents a rather large target. The demon girl purses her perfect lips and shoots a flaming arrow right at the center of Ezekiel’s spine, and Castiel just barely leaps in front of it, and with a thrust of his enormous black wings, Ezekiel is knocked flat and the arrow is sent right back at Crowley’s head so that he must make a rather undignified retreat. Glaring daggers at the blue-eyed angel, the demon says “Ooh, you and me, mate, are going to have a serious talk very soon.”

“Not if I can help it,” Dean growls. “I’ve got this, Cas,” he says. Castiel presses his shoulder gently with a thin-fingered hand before rising to fly to help Jo and Michael. Crowley’s eyes light up.

“Am I detecting a hint of heat between the two of you? Young lovers, I suspect? Ah, Dean,” the King of Hell ruefully shakes his head. “Have you never heard the story of Romeo and Juliet? Your little tryst with this angel is even more ill-fated than that ‘where civil blood makes civil hands unclean’. The stars are soon to be falling on account of the two of you, my friend.”

“Whoop-de-doo, so you know some Shakespeare. Took you long enough to figure us out, Crowley—everybody else knew by the end of November! And do you really expect me to give a shit what you think? If Cas wants to do something, he’ll do it; and I’m the most stubborn person you’ll ever have the misfortune to meet.” Crowley bares his teeth in a feral grin that sends a frigid deep chill down through every one of Dean’s bones, fight it as he might.

“Oh, we’ll just have to see about that.”

Dean grits his teeth and shakes his head to clear it. He has to protect Sammy. Dulce et decorum est pro familia mori. This Latin invocation pounds through his thoughts after he has cleared his head of the chill from Crowley.  
~  
Sam never wanted to do this. He doesn’t want to shoot anyone, no matter what atrocities they may have committed. He sees the horde coming, breaking through Zeke’s defenses like a knife cutting through warm butter, and he wishes he could find a way to prevent further bloodshed—Michael now sports a bloody nose, Gabriel looks as if he’s lost a few teeth, and Anna has a nasty burn along her shoulder and arm. Those things aren’t too much; pittances, really, but then again, Charlie isn’t an angel and neither is Jo; and the two of them are standing toughly on either side of him, getting off potshots—and then Jess, wonderous beautiful Jessica, stands in front of him, her usually soft brown eyes focused intently on the demons, handing her gun back to Charlie to reload before passing it along to Jo as she gains a clean shot right through a demon’s forehead. 

Sam’s stomach sinks as he spots the little girl from his dream—Lilith—beginning to weave her way through the fray. 

“Here’s this bitch again,” Jo snarls. “Come to recruit Sam to your little demon army? So sorry lady, you’ll have to leave a message with me, but I can assure you he isn’t interested!” Lilith sneers in that bratty little kid way that means she’s either about to pull your hair out or throw a screaming fist-pounding tantrum and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. She holds these things back, though. Her lip simply trembles in a pout, and she gives Sam the enormous pleading cow eyes. He shivers. How sick is it, for a demon to possess a child? Someone that young should be innocent, pure, thinking of nothing but her sparkly Hello Kitty backpack and convincing her mother to take her out for ice cream after school. She’s about eight. How did Lilith do it? What immense power…

“Yes, I do hold immense power, Sam,” the demon’s high voice purrs. “You could have that much power too, if you would only choose to use it. It is within you, Boy King. Have you heard the whispering, the singing in your blood? Have you ever been so angry that something solid flew across a room or an insubstantial nothingness slammed the door shut? Have you ever wished anything bad on someone, to see it happen to them only a short while later? That is your power at work, Sam. And there is so much more to it—you could learn from me.”

“Go back to hell, lady,” Jo snaps. “Sam, you’re not buying her sack of shit, are you?”

“If you were to teach me about this power, would you promise to leave and never harm any of the people I love?”

“Sam, no!” Charlie gasps. Jessica backs over to stand beside him, and reaches out to lace her fingers through his in solidarity. Her face says ‘it’s okay; I’m with you whatever you choose’. Lilith smiles broadly.

“I see that you wish to negotiate. Very well. Lady Lilith always keeps her bargains. I am the demon in charge of every one of the crossroads, you know. I keep an inventory of the souls; I’m the one who holds the deeds to their deals—tens of millions of souls—that are sold to every crossroads demon on every midnight of the week everywhere around the world. I would have to take Ruby back with me, I think…she is the only one of you who used to be in my service. I will make an example of her.” Charlie strides forward at this, the look on her face venomous.

“You’ll take her over my dead body,” she spits. Lilith raises her brows.

“Oh, really? That can be arranged.” She makes a move as if to strike Charlie down, but Sam forces himself in between them. A wall of nothingness halts the spell Lilith has just cast, throwing the demon as well as Charlie to the ground. Sam feels as if he has just run face-first into a brick wall, but his psychic energy was stimulated by fear and preservation of his brother’s friend. He had no wherewithal to control or stop it. “Impressive! Most impressive. You are a fast learner, Sam. We can do so much together.” Sam bites his lips and watches her childish form skip to and fro with glee. Charlie has crawled behind his legs and Jo stands next to her, a gun still trained directly at Lilith’s white-blonde pigtailed head.

“I can bullseye her, Sam. Whenever you say the word.”

“No,” Sam mutters quietly. “That won’t work. She’s too powerful. Even our exorcism won’t capture her.”

“How do you know it won’t? We haven’t even turned it on yet!”

“I just know, okay, Jo?” The girl looks into his serious sixteen-year-old eyes and nods.

“I believe you, but you’re the one who’s gonna hafta explain to Dean why his jerry-rigged speakers aren’t gonna work for this.” Sam nearly smiles. He’ll have a heck of a lot more than that to explain to his older brother if he lives.

“I’ll add it to my list.” The way the younger Winchester says those words sends a chill through Jo’s heart. It almost seems as if he’s putting together a bucket list—or something even more drastic than that—in case he doesn’t walk away from this fight.  
~  
Castiel’s human heart hammers and he cannot believe how short of breath he is. Crowley’s flaming arrow that he’d intercepted before it could hit Zeke must have somehow adversely affected his Grace. But that doesn’t matter—it isn’t important how weak he may presently feel, he has to protect Sam and Dean. He too felt a surge of ire when Crowley was taunting his beloved, and he is most definitely willing to go one-on-one, demon versus angel, whenever the chance presents itself. 

“We have to get rid of Crowley’s back-up witches first, though,” Dean says, jogging up to Castiel after he gets off another shot at the living pentagram. Cas looks over at Zeke and Gabe and Anna, a thought going through his head that almost makes him smile. They just have to get ahold of Michael…and hope that everyone can quickly catch a flaming sword.

There—Cas sees his eldest angel brother smiting demons left and right, the red-hot arc of his sword burning the air around it, bringing the acrid scent of burning flesh and hair to Castiel’s nose, making his human body feel sick. He shakes off the nausea and rushes swiftly up to his brother.

“Michael,” he whispers intensely, shielding himself from flying flak with his wings. “I have a way to render obsolete Crowley’s witch demons, but it will require your assistance.” Michael nods, muscles tensing in his jaw and throat as Castiel explains. 

“You had better be careful with this sword, brother,” he growls. Castiel nods and looks over at Zeke, who has glanced back at him. Their intimate soldiering knowledge of one another is beneficial, and Cas is infinitely glad of said knowledge when he lets Ezekiel know what his plan of action is. Zeke gets Anna and Gabe onboard, and the three of them spread out around Michael and Cas like the points of a compass. Castiel steps away from God’s sword as well, searching for the demon Crowley with his sharp eyes. There he is.

“Castiel,” Crowley purrs as the angel strides closer to the disintegrating sigils. For all intents and purposes, the two of them are face-to-face. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, angel. I was wondering how Dean was so infuriatingly well-protected over the course of this semester at school—and now I see. ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’” The sentiment behind these words makes Castiel burn with white-hot anger. How DARE this demon devalue his relationship with Dean in that way; Dean may be a mortal, but he is no fool—and Castiel would not mind becoming a mortal himself if it meant that he could remain with his beloved for the rest of Dean’s life. He closes his eyes for a moment; this is what Crowley wants, he needs irrationality to feed Castiel’s power so that he will go berserk and do something stupid. That is Gabriel’s consistent suggestion to everyone around him, but Cas is not Gabe. Michael also has a similar temperament; although his is excarberated by the fact that he is ALWAYS in berserker mode.

“Crowley,” Castiel says in reply, his face as far away and cold and empty as the point of the most distant star: “I find it imperative to respond to you in this fashion: ‘What piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals . . .’”   
~  
Dean takes notice of the absolute calm with which his beloved speaks and is awed by this. He himself is full of anger. His emotions sear through him with white-hot intensity and he is raring to punch his Latin professor’s stupid smug lights out. Dean is impressed as well by, despite the fact that his face is cold and aloof as he speaks thus, there being no question about the sincerity with which Castiel quotes this selection from the Bard’s most famous play. He believes every word of this speech with all the fibres of his angelic being, and that floors Dean—he knows how many awful things are done every day by humanity—and yet Cas still has it in him to approve of them and find every single human being wonderful and miraculous. 

Crowley is NOT impressed, as evidenced by his immediate reprisal of getting his witches to invoke some sort of demonic spell, which Castiel retaliates with by the prearranged signal and in movements too fast to check, Michael’s flaming sword is passed from one angel to another and cuts a swathe through each of the demon witches. ‘The chaff He will burn with unquenchable fire’ is right, Dean thinks dazedly. He’d remembered that quote from the bible because it was pretty badass, just like this. The Latin professor and demon king roars, his eyes burning pure red with hatred as well as with his true essence. The five witches have crumpled, their own demonic essences flaming and flickering out, and their human bodies remain inert. Dean feels slightly bad about that, but he can’t do so for long.

Lilith and her faction are coming, having sighted the decimation of Crowley’s A-team. Like dingoes surrounding a dying kangaroo, her faction gathers round the erstwhile college professor—and if Crowley wasn’t such a dick, Dean could almost feel sorry for him. But he’d given Dean a ‘D’ on his Latin midterm, despite Dean studying his ass off for weeks in advance. He has no illusions about the final grade he will receive in the class, and isn’t going to forgive the British git for it anytime soon. Remember the thought that Crowley was fair with his grading? Yeah, that house of cards had definitively fallen down. As Crowley whirls to look at each of Lilith’s underlings in turn, face twisted into a smarmy scowl—how the hell does he manage that? Dean wonders—the older Winchester finds his heart pounding as he searches for Sammy. 

It feels as if the battle is coming to a head now, whether the most importance is meant to be on Lilith and Crowley destroying each other’s faction, or on one of them capturing the Boy King, Dean doesn’t know. All he is sure of is that his stomach feels like it’s full of molten lead and his mouth has grown incredibly dry. One thing he was always taught by his father was to listen to his own instincts. “You’ve gotta follow your gut, son. Whenever it’s telling you something, you should listen.” And based upon this current visceral reaction, Dean needs to get himself over to Sam soon or something unimaginably awful is going to happen.  
~  
Jo Harvelle is going to kill Sam.

Ever since this thing started, he’s been championing the whole ‘this is my last day alive on Earth’ charade and it’s making her sick with fear for him. She already lost her father because she wasn’t permitted to use her skills to help him, and her mother still refuses to see Jo as anything other than a child—even today, before the fight, she’d kept telling her daughter to stay close to her, and if anything big happens, just to run. Jo had rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, Mom? Do you think I’m going to turn tail and dash off like a coward when I KNOW that I can do something to help my friends?” But now she feels like she should take that courageous comment back. She DOESN’T know what she can do to help, if anything. Being a hunter hasn’t prepared her for Sam Winchester being the Boy King. She still doesn’t really know what that means, but she had seen him pull that psychic shit with Lilith earlier when the innocent-child-possessing demon bitch had tried to kill Charlie—sweet gentle damaged nearly defenseless Charlie—and was blown away. He STOPPED an actual magic spell from getting through, and he’d done it with just the power of his mind and the air!!! After that he’d been acting like Lilith was so much stronger despite the fucking awesome thing he’d just done and the jerry-rigged speakers plan that HE HIMSELF CAME UP WITH wasn’t going to do anything. And Jess is on his team. She believes her boyfriend without question, despite the fact that Sam is only sixteen. And however book smart he is, Jo has been hunting for more than five years. She’s seen a hell of a lot already. 

Ruby is in Sam’s corner as well, though Jo is still trying to figure this demon witch out. She had gotten a flashing red neon sign of ‘Danger! Danger Will Robinson!’ the minute she’d spied Ruby after walking into Bobby’s house that morning, despite Castiel and Dean’s assurances that Ruby is on their side. Something about the smug blonde witch just doesn’t sit right with Jo. Maybe she’s prejudiced against demons, but the fact is, Ruby is constantly agreeing with Sam even as she silently appraises him like he’s a prime cut of meat. Magical meat, but still meat. He’s not on her level. He’s too naïve and sweet and young; he doesn’t know enough about the hunting world, Jo thinks desperately. And he isn’t even planning to survive this day!! He thinks that if he goes with Lilith—or Crowley, maybe, despite the fact that Jo would chop her limbs off one by one and masturbate with each of them in turn before even thinking about joining up with either—the demons will leave his family, friends, and the rest of humanity alone. Jo does not for a single second believe that. You can never trust a demon, no matter how many times they promise to adhere to their deal. Fallen angels are really good at finding loopholes in the law. That is why Jo had been duly impressed when Sam and Jess had gotten that airtight deal out of Ruby earlier in the day. 

It had obviously been too much to hope that Sam wouldn’t go back to being a knucklehead. Speaking of that, Jo just now spots Dean, running across the yard toward them, where she and Charlie have holed up behind one of Bobby’s rust bucket cars. Her heart leaps to see him. Surely HE can talk some actual sense into his younger brother. Jo waves him over to them with her hand and a burst of cover fire, and Dean does a pretty great cop-chase slide over the car’s hood that they’re using for a protective barrier.

“Hey, what’s happenin, peach?” He asks Jo with a wink and a grin, getting a squeal and a tackle-hug from Charlie the minute he crouches down beside the two of them. Jo rolls her eyes and snorts at him in mock-disdain. She will never directly admit how much Dean means to her, and he understands her reticence. They’re both those sorts of people. The warm trusting look in his eyes when he grins at her and calls her peach is good enough for her.

“Well, while you’ve been busy cussing at Crowley and playing keep-away with that fiery toothpick, Charlie and Jess and I have been doing actual work keeping your dumbass brother alive.” She sees all of the intense love and fear that Dean has for Sam flash across his face in that moment. He lets out a strong whistle of pent-up breath.

“Thanks, Jo. But that’s not surprising news, seeing as despite the fact that he is a gigantic nerd, Sam has also been a complete idiot since the day he was born.” He pans his eyes around the junkyard, where they had migrated after Lilith had made her insane offer and Sam had gone all psychic on them. “Where are the lovebirds, anyway? And what happened to Ruby?” If she went back over to help her fellow demons, I wouldn’t be surprised. Jo thinks this darkly, but decides not to invite Dean into her jaded worldview just yet. 

“Well, Sam decided the jerry-rigged speaker thing wasn’t going to work on the head honcho demon bitch, Lilith, and Ruby was in a huff about that, since it was his idea in the first place and she’d made that deal with him about it. She went back to the house to talk to Bobby and my mom, but if they came up with another plan, we ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“‘Buh-buh-buh-buh-baby you just ain’t seen nothin’ yet!’” Charlie chimes in.

“Dammit, Sam, what the hell are you doing?” mutters Dean.

“That’s what I asked him, and he said he’ll have a lot to explain to you when the day is over.” She pauses before deciding to forge ahead. “I’m worried for him, Dean. What he’s thinking—the way he was talking to me, it’s like he’s not planning on living through the day, like he wants to sacrifice himself to save all of us.” Dean freezes, pale, eyes wide and round as he stares at her. Jo curses herself inwardly for frightening her friend. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, but he’s scaring me.”

“I’m worried too, Dean,” adds Charlie softly, touching his arm. “I obviously don’t know Sam, not the way Jo knows him, but he did ask Lilith a pretty crazy question: if he went with her, would she leave the rest of us alone?”

“When he was saying all that stupid shit, what was Jess doing?!” the older Winchester snaps. Jo lets out an angry hiss in reply. She can’t help it. Couples who are willing to go through thick and thin just to prove how devoted they are to each other, without even saying ‘I think you’re doing a SUPREMELY stupid thing right now’ piss her off.

“She was going along with him! She made a show of taking his hand and I heard her say she trusted him no matter what he decided. Such bullshit.”

“I thought it was kind of cute,” Charlie defends them. Jo snaps back,

“Yeah, it’d be cute enough to give me cavities—if life and death wasn’t involved! But when she’s basically saying ‘it’s cool for you to kill yourself if you want to save us, I’m with you one hundred percent because I’m so in love with you’ … that’s just all kinds of fucked up. They’re sixteen years old! Who at that age knows what they’re doing or what they want?!”

“That’s . . . a really good point.” Charlie says.   
~  
Dean feels sick with worry. What the hell is Sammy DOING?? Cas was correct, Dean doesn’t trust his little brother, and he was obviously right not to if Sam is so damn focused on being a martyr. He needs to talk to his brother right away to make him stop doing whatever he’s planning on doing to sacrifice himself. First, he has to find Sam . . . Dean nods at Charlie and Jo, gripping the Harvelle girl’s hand and kissing Charlie’s cheek before vaulting over the car behind which they are to go and search out his brother. He could use help from Castiel right about now—and just like that, as if his thoughts have conjured him, Cas is landing in the pile of junk beside Dean.

“Dammit, Cas! Don’t fucking do that, man! You scared the shit outta me.”

“I am sor—” Castiel starts to apologize, but the rest of the word (and world) goes away when Dean hits him, hard, arms wrapping so tightly around his torso that he cannot breathe properly. Dean buries his face in Cas’s shoulder for a moment before backing up and shaking his head, irritated with himself.

“We don’t have time for that. It’s just, uh, good to see you, dude. I’m really glad that you’re still in one piece.”

“And I am glad to see you,” Castiel replies immediately and seriously. “Thank you, Dean.” He stares lovingly at the human. Dean bites his lip and curses quietly before grabbing Cas’s face and kissing him fiercely. Castiel responds in kind, though it is rather startling—he has never had such an intimate encounter during a battle before.

“God,” Dean breathes finally as he clutches Castiel’s neck, still pressing kisses onto it, “how do you fucking DO that? Every time I try to focus on something when I’m around you, you just have to say one damn thing and I’m as horny as a fourteen-year-old who’s just bought his first Playboy magazine.”

“I do not know what that is, Dean.”

“Oh, goddammit, there you go again.” He presses his lips to Castiel’s temple this time, before mouthing his way down the side of the angel’s forehead, cheekbone, and over the curve of his jaw. “Tell you what—I’m going to tell you something and you’re not allowed to talk until I say so, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean takes a shuddery breath and swallows hard. “Sam is crazy. Jo told me he’s planning on going with Lilith or sacrificing himself to save all of us. I’ve gotta find him, Cas. You’ve gotta help me figure out where he is.” Cas looks steadily at Dean with those serious blue eyes until Dean waves his hand and sighs exasperatedly. “You can reply to that!”

“Where Sam is?” the angel is uncomprehending. “You are worried about him leaving with Lilith?”

“YES, and we’ve got to hurry and FIND him; NOW, goddammit, before he actually does it!”

“All right. Give me a moment.” The angel closes his eyes and stretches out his divine senses. He can hear Dean’s heartbeat, and Jo’s, and Charlie’s… stretching out farther, he reaches Bobby and Ruby and Ellen—and then, at the far edge of the immense Singer property, he finds Jess and Sam. In a blink he opens his eyes and pulls Dean to his chest in a rough embrace. He only sees the Winchester’s startled wide eyes for a single moment before saying, “Brace yourself, Dean,” and unfurling his wings to hurl himself into the air. Dean’s breath hitches and hisses out as he convulsively clutches Castiel around the neck, and if this wasn’t a moment of life-and-death, Cas would definitely tease his boyfriend for doing that.

At least I didn’t scream like a little girl, thinks Dean. Though it was a close call there; I almost did. They soar over acres of land and after looking down once Dean shuts his eyes tight and tries to control his flip-flopping stomach. This is horrible. It isn’t because he doesn’t trust Cas—because he DOES, implicitly—this is just too much like flying in an airplane, but even worse because he can actually feel the rising and falling wind currents along with the beating of Castiel’s wings, and since regular flying terrifies him, this is a thousand times worse. 

He only opens his eyes a tiny fraction when Castiel stops moving; he is hovering over and slightly behind Bobby’s back garden shed, which his wife had used as an art studio before she died. Dean had gotten it out of Bobby one day that his wife used to love painting trees and flowers. “Her landscapes, she’d called them, and shoddy ones too. That’s what she always said to me.” Bobby had snorted. “I told her I didn’t know much about art, but I thought she was better than Picasso. She laughed and shook her head at me slowly before saying,   
‘Robert, Pablo Picasso didn’t PAINT landscapes,’ and I said,   
‘See, I TOLD you I don’t know anything about art!’” 

Bobby had lost his wife years ago; around the same time Dean and Sam had lost their mom, if the Winchester’s internal timeline is correct. Now that Dean thinks about it, he wonders how Bobby became a hunter in the first place and if his wife’s sudden death had anything to do with it. He’ll have to ask after the conclusion of all of this shit. Anyway, they are hovering in the air behind the little wooden structure, while Sam and—wait, is that Meg?—seem to be having a tete-a-tete on the other side. Anyway, back to the task at hand. He nods at Cas and points down to the roof and puts a finger to his lips. He signals to put him down silently. Castiel nods and gently lowers Dean and then lights down next to him as Dean catches his breath and tries REALLY hard not to throw up over the edge of the roof.


End file.
